She Walks in Beauty
by Angela Jewell
Summary: After Jusendou, Ranma thought the worst was over. But then he started having these weird nightmares, where Akane dies and he's powerless to prevent it. Are they premonitions? Memories? Or has something from their past followed them into the present?
1. Part One

(I apologize for the HORRIBLE formatting. If you want it to look all nice, and more like how I actually _wrote _it, then feel free to read it on my website instead. I never have figured out how to load my story so that it looks normal...)

* * *

He ran faster, harder, his pulse racing. No matter how hard he tried to shut them out, images of her filled his mind—her face, her smile—her tears when he told her it was over. He jumped effortlessly over rocks and crags, weaved between buildings, streetlights and people, his pigtail flying behind him. But he saw none of this; heard only the shadowy man's words…

…_It'd be a shame to lose one so pretty… _

His eyes narrowed dangerously at the memory. His heart, his mind, his body—all screamed for him to go faster. He pushed himself even more, now taking to the rooftops, a dark blur to anyone he passed.

_Don't let me be too late, _he silently begged_…please…**please**…_

And then he finally saw her.

She had waited for him… even though he had told her not to. He wanted to be angry with her—furious—but the sight of her…lying motionless, struggling for breath…

He took a small step towards her, almost afraid. That was when he noticed the faint outline of the familiar shadowy figure hovering above her… the same one he'd seen in his dreams so many times before.

Even without the form of a man, its essence remained the same: evil, vengeful, loathing… hesitantly, he walked closer, and the creature seemed to get darker, more solid. Any normal man would have turned and ran in terror…

But Ryu was no normal man.

His pace quickened now, his eyes narrowed dangerously. The shock and guilt he'd felt when he first saw her lying there were finally wearing off, and soon, all that remained was the anger. Screaming, he formed a ball of chi in his hands and hurled it towards the creature… all along knowing it would have no effect… even as the shadow appeared to get stronger the closer he came…

But he didn't care.

He threw another and another. Yelling and cursing, watching again and again as the dark shadow easily took the brunt of the attacks; now that it was solid, he could see the traces of a smile on its twisted, shadowy face… heard its voice, raspy and low…

"…until next time..."

Then it was gone. Just like that.

But its words hung forever in the air, a silent reminder.

The last ball of energy Ryu had prepared fizzled harmlessly in his hands, completely forgotten. His gaze drifted back to the girl on the ground, the dumb girl who had disregarded his orders, ignored his lies.

"Ayane…" He moved then, her name dying on his lips.

Her face was pale, and her eyes—eyes that were usually full of life and laughter—were now lightly closed, as if in sleep. He felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes burning.

_No. This wasn't supposed to happen... Not again._

Hesitantly, he moved closer. Her face was still soft as he touched her… her cheeks still red from the cold. And her lips… Ryu tore his gaze away, choking back a sob as he lifted her gently so she was lying against him.

"Ayane?" he asked, whispering her name. He could imagine her response perfectly—picture so vividly in his mind what she would say, how she would look. She'd slowly open her eyes and smile at him—the same smile that always made his heart beat just a little bit faster—then she'd speak his name softly, and tease him for crying…

But that's not how it happened.

She remained quiet and still, her hair brushing lightly against his arm. Her long dark tresses a striking contrast to her once beautiful white dress—now torn and dirty from the dirt and the mud. His arms tightened automatically around her as he tried to convince himself that she wasn't gone—that this wasn't the last time he'd hold her…

He begged and he pleaded, _demanded_ she open her eyes—but she was never one to take orders, and like all the times before, she ignored him. "Why do you have to be so stubborn?" he whispered, holding her closer. "Can't you listen to me? Just once…?"

Again no answer… the silence stretched on forever.

He had failed her. Again. He was always failing her, no matter how hard he tried, or how soon he remembered…

Slowly, his aura began to glow a dark shade of red—not blue like his aura naturally was. And his eyes narrowed in anger as he forced himself to push aside the pain—pain that would accomplish nothing. Instead his mind filled with dark thoughts—hatred, death, revenge—all focused on the man that had done this to her. To _them_.

In his fury, he remembered the bastard's words, spoken softly and innocently—but the underlying threat had been unmistakable.

…_It'd be a shame to lose one so pretty… it's her birthday today, is it not…?_

And then the bastard had smiled. Fucking _smiled_!

Ryu held her body tighter in his arms, ignoring the cold wind blowing all around them... and he whispered a promise; a promise that had followed him from one life to the next, but which needed to be spoken all the same.

"Next time," he said. "I'll be ready."

There was no way in Hell he would lose her again.

* * *

With those thoughts filling his mind, Ranma Saotome awoke.

* * *

Ranma 1/2 is the property and creation of Rumiko Takahashi and whoever else owns it. I'm not making any money off this, so please don't sue me!

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY  
PART 1

I wake up to find myself  
After all these years  
And where all the time has gone  
Still seems so unclear  
'Cause there's no one else  
Since I found you  
I know it's been so hard  
You should know

If I die tomorrow  
As the minutes fade away  
I can't remember  
Have I said all I can say?  
You're my everything  
You make me feel so alive  
If I die tomorrow...

Motley Crue  
(if I die tomorrow)

* * *

It was always him and Akane in one form or another—different clothes, different names, but always them. But something… something had been different this time.

He couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was… but somehow he knew that it was important.

Growling in frustration, Ranma stood up, ignoring the sleeping panda beside him. "Aw, hell," he muttered. Now, any hope he had of falling back asleep was useless. He knew from experience that it would be a long time before he could get the images of Akane—_Ayane_, some part of his mind corrected—out of his head.

Ever since Jusendou, the dreams had been occurring steadily every night. He hadn't told anyone, for obvious reasons, but he had a pretty good idea of why they kept coming back…

… He was scared of losing Akane. And after China, who could blame him?

These dreams, he reasoned, were just a result of that fear… or some junk like that. Ranma was many things, but a shrink, was not one of them.

Climbing to his feet, he stretched, now completely awake. He had to do something to get his mind off these damn dreams, and he knew just the thing…

As quietly as he could, he opened his door, making his way silently down the hall. Nothin' like a late night practice session, he thought.

But first he had to check on Akane.

Not that he was worried about her or anything. It was something he'd gotten into the habit of doing ever since those dreams had started. It was just a quick peek, really… just to make sure she was still in her room. Then, if necessary, a quick trip to her bed—just to make sure it was really her. And of course, he had to make sure she was still breathing… you never knew when Shampoo or Kodachi or someone might try to slip her something…

Moving even quieter, Ranma approached his fiancées door. He paused for a brief moment, scanning the hallway, searching for any sign of Nabiki, his parents, or Ryoga… despite his noble intentions, all they'd see is some pervert sneaking a peek on his fiancée in the middle of the night. Though he was sure Nabiki and their fathers wouldn't mind… but both for entirely different reasons.

Noting that the coast was clear, Ranma gently opened the door as quietly as he could. As a martial artist—and a damn good one—such a task was easy. But still, it was hard to see anything when he first opened the door, and his eyes took awhile to adjust to the darkness… when he finally did, he didn't like what he saw.

Her bed was empty.

His heart-rate sped up at that—his mind not comprehending what he was seeing.

She was _always_ there—she was never _not_ there—not during the night, not when he _needed_ to see her, to confirm that it was all just a dream...

His face went cold as he flipped on her bedroom light, quickly scanning the room, praying his eyes were deceiving him.

The room was empty as well.

Without waiting another second, Ranma ran to the bathroom—pausing briefly to make sure it was empty. And then he was off down the stairs, his mind a flurry of possibilities…

Akane—gone—kidnapped—missing

Dead.

He refused to dwell on that last one, despite the fact that his dream was still so vivid in his mind. After searching the rest of the house briefly, he threw open the door, ignoring the cold rush of wind as he ran out into the yard, desperately scanning the area. He wouldn't call her name yet…not til he knew she was really gone…doing so would be too final—to hopeless—.

Too much like Jusendou.

That's when he noticed that there was a light on in the dojo.

His heart and his mind grabbed onto that fact like it was a life-line—the only thing keeping him from going under. And not wasting a second, Ranma ran towards the familiar building, his heart beating frantically in his chest.

_Please… **please** let her be there…_

He heard her even before he reached the doors. She was yelling as she drove a fist into a large stack of cinder blocks, something he hadn't seen her do for awhile… and finally his heart slowed down, his breathing returned, and he entered the dojo, angry.

Akane looked up as he entered, surprised as she wiped at her brow with the sleeve of her gi.

"Ranma…"

"What the hell are you doing Akane?" he demanded, walking quickly towards her. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he really couldn't help himself… the sight of that empty bed…"Don't you know how dangerous it is to be here alone in the middle of the night?" he added.

Akane's initial surprise quickly turned to anger at the tone of his voice, and her eyes narrowed to reflect that anger. "I can take care of myself," she shot back. "I don't need your permission if I want to practice."

Ranma frowned as he looked away, knowing she was right. But that didn't make him any less angry. "Well—well you do from now on. If you're gonna leave your room, you should write a—a note or somethin'. That way, we don't gotta worry about ya if you're not in your room."

Akane raised an eyebrow at that, slightly confused. "My room?" as soon as the words left her mouth, the anger was back. "Just what were you doing in my room anyway, you pervert?" she demanded.

Ranma blushed, realizing what he'd said. "Nothin!" he said quickly, shaking his head. "I just thought… thought that I heard..." silently, he cursed his bad luck. He was never any good at lying. "Oh, forget it," he muttered irritably. Grabbing her hand in his, he began to pull her out of the dojo. "Come on," he told her. "Let's just go back to the house."

Akane tore her hand away. "Ranma," she said, her voice cold and… worried? "_What_ is going on? Why are you acting so weird?"

Ranma glanced around the dojo uncomfortably. A couple days ago, he had another one of those nightmares—only that time, he had been some guy named Satoshi while Akane was known as Akimi. But again, he had been too late… had arrived just in time to see the shadowy creature hovering above her…

…in a dojo a lot like this one. Now every time he saw Akane training, he couldn't get the image of Akimi dying on the dojo floor, out of his mind.

But he doubted his fiancée would appreciate such an explanation.

"I ain't being weird," he told her, clinging to the lie. "You're probably just tired." Grabbing her hand again, he led her out of the dojo, relieved when she went willingly this time. They entered the house silently, neither one speaking.

Somehow they had ended up in the living room and Akane seated herself at the small square table, Ranma following suit. They spent a lot of time sitting in companionable silence, sneaking secret glances at each other, shyly looking away… but even that couldn't sustain Ranma's growing curiosity.

"So," he began slowly. "What were you doin' in the dojo anyway? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Akane frowned. "I could ask you the same question," she shot back.

Forcing a laugh, Ranma shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "You?"

"Same," she grumbled softly.

He nodded his head, relieved. At least none of his other fiancées had tried something desperate during the night… after their failed wedding he sure wouldn't put it past them.

"Ranma," Akane began tentatively, her voice troubled. "I've been…I've actually been meaning to talk to you for awhile now," she said.

Ranma looked at her in surprise, curious despite himself. They'd already had their little talk after the second failed wedding…what could it be this time?

"Um… yeah?" he asked quietly. "What about?"

"Well, I—I wanted to ask you about Jusendou," she said, her voice barely audible. Ranma went white as a sheet at that, and was even close to jumping up and making a break for it… when her next words stopped him cold. "I've been having these dreams," she continued. "And I think they may be connected to what happened in China."

Ranma stared at her in disbelief, his eyes wide. It had to be some kind of coincidence, that's all… it wasn't anything to worry about. Not really…

"Dreams?" he said slowly, with a calmness he didn't quite feel.

Akane nodded as she shifted uncomfortably where she sat. "Ranma… In every single one of them, I die."

* * *

Authors Notes

12-13-10: I'm sorry. I realize how terribly this story is in need of a rewrite, especially the scenes involving dialogue. I promise to get to it when I have time (which admittedly, will be awhile from now.)  
3-13-05: I know this whole dream-sharing idea-thing has been done to death: But I PROMISE I'm doing something new with it, so please, don't give up on me yet!

~Angela Jewell


	2. Part Two

For a moment, he was sure he was still dreaming. After all, there was no_ way_ she could have said what he _thought_ she just said. And if her expression hadn't been so serious and troubled, he might have even laughed at the absurdity of it all.

But even in a dream, he still couldn't stand to see her so upset.

"A dream?" he asked slowly, bemused. "Whaddya mean?"

Akane looked down at the table, her hands in her lap. "Well, each dream starts a little differently. Usually I'm in a room getting ready for something—a party, a celebration, a wedding—something important, I think. Or else, I'll be waiting for someone…" she lifted her head then, her words trailing off as her dark eyes met his.

It was a shy, embarrassed look… but to Ranma, guilt-ridden, it carried all the weight an angry accusation could have: his chest felt heavy and constricted, like a massive bolder had just been dropped, and left to sit on his stomach.

…In many of his own dreams, he had arrived too late; only to find her dead…

But of course Akane didn't know that, and blushing innocently she looked away. "And I always see people I recognize," she continued, trying to cover up her embarrassment. "Dad, Kasumi, Nabiki—even Kuno and Kodachi—but they're not in every dream, and even when they are, it's very brief. But you're different Ranma," she said slowly, her voice low. Her eyes were focused intently on her hands, unwilling to meet his gaze. "You're _always_ there. At least," she added, sounding uncertain. "I think it's you. It _looks_ like you, anyhow, and—well, I _feel_ like it's you, you know? But in every dream we're dressed funny, and our names are never the same. And in the end," she went on softly. "When I— when I _die_—it always happens in a different place: in a bedroom, by a beach, in a dojo… tonight I was waiting for you in a secret meeting spot. And there's—there's always this _shadow_-thing—" lifting her head, she glanced up at her fiancée, and stopped. "Ranma, what's wrong?"

He was gripping the tabletop tightly, his knuckles white.

Akane leaned forward, eyes wide with concern. She had expected a certain reaction from him: an inflated ego perhaps, and maybe a taunt or two—but surely he couldn't be _this_ upset with her over something she couldn't control. "Ranma," she repeated, slightly worried. "I asked if you're alright."

He made no signs to show he'd heard her.

His mind was filled with images of the shadowy creature from his dreams, its empty form, hovering above her body. And the harder he tried to stop it, the more powerful it became—yelling, threatening, begging—it only seemed to delight it more. It grew larger, _darker_ as it continued sucking the life out of her, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

It was the same thing, over and over again…

…And if Akane was dreaming the same thing…

No, he thought suddenly, shaking his head. That he couldn't accept. Not yet.

Lifting his head, he glanced up at his fiancée. He wasn't sure when she had gotten so close—her face was a mere few inches from his own, and she was looking at him intently, biting her bottom lip in what he could only assume was worry. Seeing him blinking at her in confusion, however, seemed to reassure her somewhat, and she leaned back in her chair; though she still looked concerned.

"_Are_ you okay?" she asked again. "You looked—you were really pale just now. You're not getting sick are you?"

Ranma shook his head and tried to give her a reassuring smile. Though it felt strained even to him, it was the best he could manage under the circumstances. "I'm fine," he told her. "Just… something you said sounded kinda familiar. That's all."

"I see," Akane replied thoughtfully. "Maybe that sort of thing's more common than I thought… seeing yourself as someone else, dressing in strange clothes…"

"Not that," he replied before he had the good sense to stop himself. "The uh… dying part… it kinda reminded me of Jusendou."

Akane, for some reason, seemed almost _delighted_ by that observation; her eyes widened and she slowly began to smile. "Doesn't it though?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair. "That was why I wanted to talk to you, Ranma. I thought maybe you could tell me about what happened there—after I grabbed the dragon tap, I mean." Her face became serious then, and she seemed almost hesitant to continue. "I can't remember anything that happened to me after I became a doll… all I remember is hearing your voice calling out to me, right after you got me the water. Maybe if I know—maybe if, if I _talk_ about it—maybe these horrible dreams will go away."

Ranma stared back at her, not saying a word. _Talk_ about it…? About _what _exactly? The hell he'd gone through when he first thought her dead—when all he had left of her was a singed Chinese shirt? Or maybe she'd like to know more about the battle with Saffron—the one he'd almost lost—the one where he almost killed a God in order to win. Or perhaps she was just curious to know how he felt when she finally closed her eyes—when for a brief moment, he actually thought he was too late—that he'd never see her open her eyes and smile for him again…

…Yeah. Like _that_ was gonna happen.

Feigning indifference, he tried to keep his voice light. "Nothin' much," he told her, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Just the usual: you did something dumb and I had to go outta my way to save ya. It was nothin' really," he said. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms behind his head and proceeded to look anywhere but at her.

Akane frowned. It figured… the _one_ time she needed him to be serious... "Dummy," she muttered under her breath. Abruptly she stood, and began to walk out of the room. Surprised, Ranma quickly stood up too, and maneuvering his way around the table, began to walk closely behind her.

"Where ya goin'?" he asked, watching her curiously.

"Back to bed," she replied, not bothering to look at him. "You're apparently not going to be much help, so there's no point in staying up." Reaching the foot of the stairs, she sighed. "I guess I'll just have to ask Ryoga next time I see him."

Ranma immediately stopped walking at that, and an angry scowl made its way onto his face. "Hey!" he complained, his jaw set. "It ain't like Pig-boy knows somethin' I don't!"

Akane sighed. "Sure, he doesn't," she replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice. "Except for the fact that he's actually willing to _tell_ me what I need to know."

"It's kinda hard to tell ya something when there's _nothin'_ to tell," he shot back. His voice sounded so believable to him that for a moment, he actually convinced himself he was telling the truth.

But Akane didn't care. Still ignoring him, she started up the stairs and headed straight for her bedroom, the duck nameplate banging loudly against her door as she swung it wide open. Ranma followed closely behind, and was even close to entering the room himself… when she suddenly slammed the door right in his face.

Growling, he turned away.

_That was **so** uncute!_ Just for that, she could go ahead and dream all the horrible dreams she wanted, for all he cared!

Throwing one last angry glare at her door, he turned and headed back towards his own room.

Ignoring the sleeping panda snoring away on the floor, he threw himself onto his futon and stared up at the ceiling. Without Akane nearby to fuel his anger he felt it quickly drain away.

Only then did he let himself consider everything she'd told him.

Her dreams, they _had_ to be the same. There was no way in hell it was just a coincidence: the meeting places, the different names and clothing, and that damn shadow…

But what did it all mean?

Letting out a frustrated sigh he rolled onto his stomach, eyes fixed intently on the door across the room… though he was really only interested in what lay beyond it.

Was Akane dreaming right now, he wondered? And if she was, was she dying again… her eyes, pleading for him to save her?

And did she hate him for not being able to…?

His gaze slowly returned to the ceiling, and rolling onto his back, he tried his best to ignore the knot forming in his stomach.

He was really worried. He didn't know why, or even _what_ was worrying him—but that lingering feeling, the feeling he got after every nightmare, the feeling that something was about to happen—it wouldn't go away. And he couldn't discount these feeling— no matter how silly or absurd they seemed. Not when they concerned Akane.

Feeling restless he sat up.

He wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight.

* * *

Many hours later, when he was sure she was fast asleep, he snuck back into her room. 

Even through the darkness he could still make out the figure of her body, asleep in her bed. With great care, he quietly walked towards her, careful not to make a sound. And then, kneeling beside her bedside, he watched her. Her face was turned towards him, the moonlight streaming in through the window, bathing her features in a soft, faint glow. And her face looked calm—happy even—all traces of a horrible dream absent in her current expression. And he could see the steady rhythm of her breathing, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

Ranma sat that way for awhile, comforted by the familiar motion of her body…

…just watching her breathe….

* * *

Ranma 1/2 is the property and creation of Rumiko Takahashi and whoever else owns it. I'm not making any money off this so don't sue me. Besides, I'm in college which means I'm broke. 

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY  
PART 2

It brings out the worst in me  
When you're not around  
I miss the sound of your voice  
The silence seems so loud  
'Cause there's no one else  
Since I found you  
I know it's been so hard  
You should know

If I die tomorrow  
As the minutes fade away  
I can't remember  
Have I said all I can say?  
You're my everything  
You make me feel so alive  
If I die tomorrow

-Motley Crue

* * *

Doctor Tofu's office was still closed, though Ranma wasn't surprised. It was still early after all, and the sun had barely broken the horizon. His gaze drifted to the slowly brightening sky as he lay down on the rough roof-tiles, resigning himself to a lengthy wait on top of the clinic. Returning to the Tendo Dojo empty-handed had never once crossed his mind; today, he was determined to get an explanation or some kinda remedy for their strange situation. And if anyone could cure them of these damn dreams, he knew it was Doctor Tofu. 

There was only one thing stopping him from breaking down the door that very moment: he was still stubbornly, desperately clinging to the belief that nothing was really wrong. Going in there now, raving and screaming like a lunatic about some stupid dreams, would _definitely_ not be the best way to show just how unconcerned he was.

And he wasn't worried. Not in the slightest.

Well… not really.

He was here today, sitting on top of the roof in the dark and the cold, because of Akane. After all, he couldn't allow these dreams to continue… her eyes would start to get all puffy and red from lack of sleep, she'd catch a cold or collapse from exhaustion… and he'd undoubtedly be blamed for it.

And if, by some stretch of the imagination, these dreams really _did_ turn out to be something serious, he knew he could handle it. He'd saved her countless times before… one more time wasn't gonna kill him.

Still feeling uneasy, he shifted his position on the roof, his eyes following various shadows cast by nearby trees. There was a distinct tightening in his chest as he watched them bend and change, and all his earlier concerns seemed to come back with a vengeance: the feeling that something was wrong—_seriously_ wrong—it wouldn't go away.

But dwelling on that thought, he knew, would only drive him crazy… so instead he forced himself to think of other things—normal, _safe_ things—Kasumi cooking, training with his old man, his mother…

With these thoughts filling his mind he continued to wait for Doctor Tofu to awaken…

But the feeling of impending disaster never quite left.

* * *

The sound of movement coming from the office below had Ranma up and moving instantly. With practiced ease he jumped to the ground, his feet landing lightly in front of the large, wooden door. There, he paused for a moment… the cool metal of the doorknob resting comfortably in his palm. 

He knew why he was hesitating.

Sudden, irrational fear gripped him as he stood there. What if he had only been imagining the sounds he'd heard? What if his impatience had gotten to him and the door was still locked? Should he say to hell with it and break the door down anyway?

After all… there was only so much patience Ranma Saotome could take…

But of course, in the end, his worries were unfounded. When he finally did manage to turn the knob, it did so easily and with no resistance. Grinning over his small triumph, Ranma ignored the sound of the ringing bell accompanying his entrance, and made his way into the clinic.

Doctor Tofu who was busy sweeping the walkway, paused, and glanced up at the unexpected visitor.

"Why Ranma," he said, sounding pleasantly surprised. "I didn't expect to see you here so early." Out of force of habit rather than real concern, he began to quickly scan the younger boy's body, searching for any obvious signs of bruises, scrapes, or cuts. His eyes lingered momentarily on Ranma's left hand, his expression confused and troubled… but seconds later it was gone. Smiling, he pushed his glasses up, allowing them to rest comfortably against the bridge of his nose. "Is anything the matter?" he asked, looking slightly concerned now that his young charge appeared to be physically unharmed. "I don't suppose you made Happosai angry again, did you?"

Embarrassed, Ranma looked down at the floor. "Naw," he said, shaking his head, "no more than usual anyhow."

The doctor smiled as he leaned his chin on the broom handle. "Then what happens to be the trouble?" he asked. "It's not often that you come by just to chat, though you know you're always welcome."

Ranma shifted uncomfortably where he stood: he had been dreading this moment. All night he had been thinking about what to say, trying to come up with the best way to approach the subject. But now—now that he was actually _here_—nothing he came up with sounded right. There was just no way to approach this topic _without_ sounding like a lunatic… and for a moment, he regretted letting the doctor sleep when the end result was bound to be the same…

Swallowing nervously, he did the one thing he was good at: threw caution to the wind and said whatever came to mind. "Me an Akane have both been having these weird dreams," he blurted out, averting the doctor's gaze. "She keeps dying in all of 'em, and I can't save her no matter how hard I try—none of my attacks work, and this _shadow_ monster-thing, it can't be killed. And every dream ends the same—Akane's dead, an' I promise her it won't happen ever again. But it does, over and over… though we're a little different each time: our names, appearances, clothes… but I _know_ it's her, even if her personality's different, she's still Akane. And these damn dreams—they won't stop." Laughing without humor, he lifted his head to look at Doctor Tofu. "I don't suppose you'd know why, would ya?"

There. That wasn't so hard. He felt better already.

That's when he noticed the concerned expression that was on the older man's face; and the small bit of relief Ranma had enjoyed from unburdening the truth, slowly drained away. Doctor Tofu promptly leaned his broom against the wall and walked over to the back counter. Taking the coffee pot off the burner, he began to pour himself a steaming cup of coffee as Ranma watched uneasily, unsure if it was a good or a bad sign… the fact that he couldn't remember another time he'd seen the doctor drink anything other than tea, wasn't very reassuring.

After another drink, Doctor Tofu set the cup down and glanced at Ranma once again, his face serious. "Dreams, did you say?" he asked, pushing up his glasses as he waited for an affirmative nod. "You said 'me and Akane', correct? Does this mean the two of you are _both_ experiencing these dreams?"

Ranma nodded. "Yeah, ever since Jusendou, I think." Pausing, he watched Doctor Tofu carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. He wasn't sure what he expected to see there—a hint of recognition perhaps, or maybe a sign, however small, that he understood what was going on… but to his disappointment, no such reaction occurred.

"Interesting," Tofu replied as he walked over to a large bookcase that was overflowing with all types of odds and ends—not only books. A strange shaped compass that looked like an egg sat on one shelf and a bundle of scrolls leaned haphazardly against it, seemingly shoved wherever there was room. Grabbing one of them, Tofu glanced up at Ranma and smiled. "Would you mind telling me a little more about these dreams?" he asked, his gaze straying temporarily to the scroll before returning once again to Ranma.

"Well, there ain't much more to tell really," he shrugged. Though he tried to sound unconcerned and relaxed, he could tell right away that Doctor Tofu wasn't fooled. With a smile and a nod of encouragement from the doctor, Ranma began to recount his dreams again… though this time he went slower, careful not to leave anything out. He talked about the first time they occurred—and how surprised he was to learn Akane was having the same ones. He discussed the similarities between their dreams, and he talked about the shadowy creature… and the shadowy man he often saw before it appeared. When he was done, he looked up at Doctor Tofu, his expression hopeful and expectant.

"I'm no expert on dreams, Ranma," Doctor Tofu began, letting him down gently. "But I do know a thing or two about chi, not to mention the effects it can have on a person's life force: including dreams." Turning once more to the bookcase he reached for a particular book and placed it beneath the scroll already in his hands. "From what you've told me, I'd gather that you and Akane's chi might have become unbalanced at Jusendou—although I'm not certain if that alone would be enough to account for the both of you sharing these dreams."

"Then what is?" Ranma asked, growing impatient. It was hard to believe that these dreams were simply a side-effect of unbalanced chi… though he supposed it made just as much sense as anything else.

"Here," Tofu said, holding the scroll open so Ranma could see it. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the doctor's eyes twinkled mischievously behind his glasses as Ranma's eyes quickly scanned the scroll.

It was a picture of two people standing a good distance apart, a red string floating between them, each end tied securely around their little fingers. Ranma's brow furrowed in confusion, and he turned to look questioningly at the doctor. "Umm… what does this have to do with my dreams?" he asked bluntly.

Doctor Tofu smiled as he once again rolled up the scroll and placed it back on its shelf. "You do know what that is, correct?"

"Sure," Ranma replied, no less confused. "It's the red string of fate, right?"

The doctor nodded. "And do you know what the red string of fate is?" he asked.

Ranma paused for a moment, trying to remember. "It's some dumb string that's supposed to connect ya to someone else, right? But it's just a legend," he added. "It ain't like it's real or nothin'."

Doctor Tofu raised an eyebrow. "It's not?" he asked, sounding rather amused. Before Ranma could reply, however, he continued. "Two people sharing dreams is a very rare occurrence, Ranma," he explained slowly. "And those cases which have been reported are normally limited to two people who are extremely close to one another—a pair of twins, for example."

"Okay," Ranma replied uncertainly, trying to make sense of this new information. "So… me an Akane are the exception, right? And what does any of that have to do with that string thing, anyway?"

"I can explain that," Tofu said, smiling as he marked a place in the book he was still holding, "after I see Akane." Ranma deflated a little, and his shoulders slumped. "Why don't you bring her by later? I'd like to check on something when I have you both together," Doctor Tofu added. "In the meantime, I'll do some research on that shadow creature you mentioned. You never know when something might turn up."

"Sure," Ranma said, though his voice was dejected. Secretly, he had hoped Akane wouldn't have to know about it at all—that the doctor would simply whip up a cure, and that would be that. Slipping it to her when she wasn't lookin' woulda been easy, but now he'd be forced to explain everything to her as soon as he got home…

Head down, and hands in his pockets, Ranma exited the office. He racked his brain as he walked; trying to figure out the best way to break it to her. But every scenario he came up with ended with him in a cast, or lying immobile on the ground.

She _had_ been painfully honest with him last night, after all… and he doubted she'd be very happy with him for keeping quiet all that time.

Nope.

He _definitely_ wasn't looking forward to their next encounter… however painful it proved to be.

* * *

Being as quiet as possible, Ranma slipped back into the Tendo's, careful to avoid Kasumi at all costs. The last thing he wanted was to have to answer the eldest Tendo daughter's innocent questioning of where he'd been all morning. For as tempting as the option was, it was nearly impossible to lie to Kasumi. 

And just when he had reached the stairs—safety only a few steps away—he heard it: "Why, if it isn't Ranma."

Instinctively, he froze… a new fear rising within him. For a moment he'd forgotten that there was someone _much_ worse than Kasumi. Turning, he forced a smile.

"Hey there, Nabiki," he said, waving mechanically. "How's it goin'?" He tried his best to hide his unease, but it was nearly impossible; compared to Kasumi, Nabiki was _frightening_. She could _force_ the truth out of you, willing or not...

And this time, it looked like she meant business.

The middle Tendo daughter was standing against the wall, arms crossed against her chest. Like always, she wore a calculating look on her face… and it took all of Ranma's willpower not to turn and run in the other direction.

She knows, a small voice in his head screamed.

How had she done it _this_ time? A hidden camcorder, a microphone, hired spies…?

He gave her several seconds to speak up, for her to list her demands, or else grill him for details and information. But she never did. She remained completely silent, looking at him expectantly.

Partly surprised, and completely relieved, Ranma shrugged. "Well, I'll be seeing ya," he said, eager to get away before she changed her mind. Before he had even taken two steps, however, again, her voice stopped him cold.

"Don't you have something to ask me?"

Ranma paused on the stairs, searching his mind. Aw, crap, he thought desperately. What had he forgotten? She wasn't gonna make him pay back all that money he owed her, was she? The interest alone would kill him!

That was what he was thinking; what actually came out, however, was an unsure and hopeful, "no?"

Nabiki shook her head as a look of disgust crossed her face. "Suit yourself, Saotome," she replied, turning to walk away… but not before glancing over her shoulder one last time to throw a warning glare in his direction. "But don't blame _me_ when Akane gets mad at you for forgetting to buy her a birthday present."

Ranma froze at her words, his expression one of stunned disbelief. "Birthday?" he said slowly, as if not quite believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. "What birthday? _When_?"

"Don't tell me you really did forget," Nabiki said, rolling her eyes. "_Really,_ Ranma… Kasumi's only been dropping hints to you for the past two weeks. You really _are_ dense."

Ranma began to protest, but was quickly cut off.

"Her birthday's in two days," Nabiki said, shoving a couple thousand yen at his chest, all business again. "Be sure to get her something nice— it's her seventeenth birthday, after all."

Ranma instinctively took the money, muttering his thanks as Nabiki waved over her shoulder. "I'll be sure to add it to your tab," she told him. Then she was gone.

Glancing up the stairs towards Akane's room, Ranma groaned. Great, a birthday… just what he needed. Now he had _another_ thing to worry about.

* * *

When he told her about his dreams, he thought she'd be upset, or at most, a little annoyed that he tried to keep it from her. But against all odds, Akane took the news surprisingly well. A little too well, in fact... now he _knew_ something was wrong. 

"So…" Ranma began uneasily, glancing at his reluctant fiancée from atop the fence as they made their way to Doctor Tofu's. "You _sure_ you ain't mad?" He thought he heard an angry growl coming from her direction; ignoring it, he repeated the question.

This time, he _knew_ he heard a growl.

"I already told you I'm not, so quit asking already!" his fiancée all but shouted.

Ranma, rolling his eyes, sighed. "Geez, ya don't gotta bite my head off," he muttered, crossing his hands behind his head. "I was just askin', is all."

Akane glared back. "Well, _maybe_ if you stopped **asking** me the same question over and over, I wouldn't **have** to bite your head off!"

Ignoring her angry comments, he jumped off the fence and onto the pavement, biting back a retort. Maybe he _had_ gone a bit too far… after all, he knew his fiancée's temper better than anyone; but he had only been worried about her. And as far as he was concerned, he had _reason_ to worry. Such a calm, indifferent reaction _wasn't_ normal.

But to his relief, he didn't have time to dwell on it: he spotted Doctor Tofu's clinic a good distance down the road. Choosing to ignore Akane rather than make her even angrier, he ran on ahead, leaving her to yell after him as she followed behind.

In the clinic, Doctor Tofu was waiting for them.

Ranma had barely made it through the door before the good doctor appeared before him, smiling broadly. "Welcome back Ranma," he said, pushing up his glasses as he glanced over the younger boy's shoulder. The smile on his face seemed to fade for a moment. "Akane's coming, isn't she?" he asked, frowning slightly.

That's when Akane entered the office.

"What did you run ahead for, dummy?" she demanded as she fought to catch her breath. Ranma, for his part, barely noticed. His eyes were glued on Doctor Tofu. For some reason, the moment his fiancée had entered the room, the doctor's eyes had widened briefly in surprise—surprise which quickly became a myriad of other emotions—some of which Ranma couldn't even begin to identify. But he had seen confusion in those eyes… uncertainty, denial… until finally, only one emotion remained; something Ranma wasn't quite ready to acknowledge, let alone accept.

…Fear.

He glanced at Akane then, searching for anything that might have set the doctor off like that… but she looked the same to him: still an uncute tomboy, through and through. She had a white bandage wrapped around her wrist from when she'd sprained it the other day during a particularly klutzy fall. And she was wearing a flower printed dress—one which he actually thought looked good on her (but would never admit)—and she was biting her bottom lip as she stared at the doctor, watching him curiously, though her expression bordered on worry.

So what had Doctor Tofu seen?

"Are you alright, Doctor?" Akane asked, voicing his own concerns.

At the sound of her voice, Tofu instantly straightened, coughing uncomfortably as he adjusted his glasses. "I'm fine, Akane," he assured her, nodding absently. As if to reinforce his words, he smiled as he motioned them over to the sofa. "Why don't you two sit down, I'll get us some tea and then we can talk."

Ranma obeyed, though he was beginning to feel a little anxious. This was _not_ how he had imagined this meeting would begin; he had thought Tofu would see them together and tell them not to worry… that his worries were ungrounded. But now, it appeared the exact opposite was true.

Trying to ease his fears, he glanced over at Akane who was now sitting beside him. Her hands were clasped in her lap and she was staring at them silently, deep in thought. For a moment he considered insulting her, hoping to get a rise out of her—to see that old familiar spark, that fire, which she always seemed to exude when she was angry. Funny, how almost comforting it had come to be after so long. And at least that way, he figured, he could reclaim _some_ semblance of normal.

But he never got the chance.

Doctor Tofu didn't leave them waiting long. Several minutes later he re-entered the room, holding two cups of hot tea in his hands. "Here you are," he said, handing them to his guests. Ranma and Akane quickly thanked him as they took their drinks; Akane took a polite sip, while Ranma set his cup down on the table beside him… all his attention focused on Doctor Tofu. The good doctor, at that moment, was currently changing the OPEN sign on his entry-way door to CLOSED.

Ranma watched him wearily, his initial sense of dread quickly returning; now the older man was carefully locking the door, mindful of preventing any future interruptions. Only after the locks were secure did he dare re-enter the room. Then, taking a seat directly across from his guests, he lifted his own teacup and took a customary sip.

Ranma was on the edge of his seat by that point, and it took all of his willpower not to grab the other man and start shaking him till he talked.

But to his relief, Doctor Tofu set down his teacup; though the old, familiar smile never appeared. "I'm not quite sure how to begin," he told them, his voice low with uncertainty. "The best course of action in such a situation, I suppose, would be to come right out and say it. Though I realize that what I'm about to tell you may come as a bit of a shock." Turning his gaze on Ranma, his expression became serious. "Do you remember what we talked about earlier today?" he asked. "About the red string of fate…?"

Ranma looked uncertain and confused by the question, but answered with an indifferent, "Sure."

Looking satisfied, Doctor Tofu turned to Akane. "I know you're familiar with it," he said with a smile. "When you were little, you told me your mother and father were connected by the red string of fate, which was why they were so close."

Nodding, Akane blushed at the memory, but said nothing.

When she was younger, her mother had told her all about the legend—about the red string that was supposed to connect you to a very special person, someone who was made just for you. She always said that if you wished hard enough, believed and hoped, then one day you'd find him… just like she'd found their father. Nabiki had always been skeptical of the legend, of course, but both Akane and Kasumi had been quick to believe in it.

Even today, she was almost certain Kasumi still did… though Akane herself stopped believing in the legend after their mother died…

But she couldn't exactly tell Doctor Tofu that.

Not that he would have heard her either way, she noted, slightly amused. He appeared deep in thought, as if a silent battle were waging in his mind.

"Yes," he said suddenly, as if remembering why they were all here. "It's best to just come right out and say it, I think." Pausing for a moment, he stared at them both in turn, his face becoming more resolute by the second. Even with his glasses, Akane couldn't mistake the expression on his face—his eyes looked guarded, and his lips were drawn into a thin, tight line. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was preparing for some kind of attack.

Something which made a lot more sense, considering the next few words that came out of his mouth: "You see," he began slowly, choosing his words with care. "I have this ability… a gift, really: something which allows me to see the red string of fate."

He paused then… waiting.

Ranma didn't move a muscle… just stared at him blankly…

Akane, as expected, took the news a _little_ better. She showed some signs of intelligent thought… though she seemed to be torn between confusion and disbelief, both of which she kept alternating between. Her expression was almost comical, and Doctor Tofu had to forcefully restrain a grin as he took a long sip of his tea, patiently waiting for their shock to wear off.

It was expected, after all...

Finally, Akane looked down at her teacup, her eyes glued on the contents within; Tofu doubted very much that her mind was really on the tea. But after several drawn out, awkward minutes, she lifted her head to look at him.

"The red string of fate?" she repeated slowly, uncertainly, searching his gaze. She was looking for anything that would tell her she was right; that he was just joking after all. Or at best, that she'd heard him wrong and there was something _else_ he had wanted to tell them.

But his expression remained the same: solemn and serious.

And although she had never known Doctor Tofu to lie to her before... this—none of it made sense.

"But that—that's just a legend," she told him, voicing her thoughts with a shake of her head. "It's not real. I mean, it _can't_ be. According to legends, it's supposed to be invisible, right? So how can you _see_ it…?"

"Right," Ranma agreed, suddenly, nodding. "'Sides, even if it _was_ real," he went on, picking up where his fiancée left off, "what's that gotta do with our dreams?"

Looking apologetic, Doctor Tofu frowned. "I'm afraid I don't have all the answers, Ranma," he told him honestly, eyes down. "In fact, it may turn out that all you'll get for your troubles is more questions. But one thing I can say for certain is that the red string of fate does indeed exist." He paused for a moment, deep in thought, and lifting his head again; his voice regained its usual confident edge.

"As to how I came to acquire such a unique gift," he continued, turning to look back at Akane, "I'm afraid even I don't know the answer to that question. But it does explain one of the reasons I'm so attuned to chi."

Running a hand thru his hair in frustration, Ranma groaned. "I don't understand," he admitted, albeit reluctantly. "What's that string thing gotta do with chi?"

"Well, you know that chi is a type of energy that flows throughout the body, correct?" As expected, both nodded. "The red string is an extension of that energy," Tofu explained, pushing up his glasses. "In essence, it's connected to a person's chi. If a person's energy force is strong, then the string appears bright, and is easy to see. If that person's chi is weak, however, then their fate line will appear faint as well. Take, for example, your Möko Takabisha," he said, looking at Ranma. "You have the ability to draw chi from your body and mold it into a type of weapon, something which few people are able to do. In other words, you take your internal energy, and project it outward. The red string of fate is the same way," he said.

Akane's eyes widened in understanding, and she leaned forward eagerly, curious despite herself. Ranma, beside her, grinned, taking it all in: chi and martial arts—now _those_ he could understand.

Doctor Tofu went on. "The string of fate looks like a long thin thread of chi that is constantly flowing out of the body. Like legend says, it appears as a red string, of sorts—a string that extends from one person's pinky to someone else's. Each person's line is different," he added quickly. "Most are actually quite dim and barely noticeable, though I can always see a glint now and then that assures me it's there." He paused, seemingly troubled. "And then, there are those whose lines aren't visible at all. Those are the ones that have either been cut, or have lost the person on the other end," he finished sadly.

Akane instantly thought of her mother. Had she been right all along, she wondered? And if she was, did that mean her father had become one of those people…? Had his string of fate disappeared after her mother had died?

"So, if everyone has a red string of fate," Ranma interrupted, sounding confused. "Does that mean we always end up with the person we're supposed to?" he asked.

Doctor Tofu shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not always the case," he replied regretfully. "To see a completed string is extremely rare; in fact, I've only seen four or five myself," he explained, suddenly blushing over something only he knew. "But when they are together, the connection and the line become very strong."

"What about yourself, Doctor Tofu?" Akane asked curiously. "Can you see yours as well?"

Tofu's face became a bright shade of red at the question, and his glasses began to fog up as a silly grin came over his face. "Actually… you may have noticed that—that, well… I tend to get a little… shall we say, out of sorts… whenever Kasu—Kasumi's around." Ranma and Akane tried to mask their amusement as the doctor began to twiddle his fingers shyly at the mere mention of the eldest Tendo daughter. "That's because," he continued, blushing deeply, "Kasumi—Kasumi and I are…are… well, _connected_."

Akane's eyes widened and a huge smile spread over her face. "You mean you and Kasumi are tied together by the red string?" she asked excitedly. Doctor Tofu could only nod as he continued to make silly motions with his hands, grinning insanely all the while.

"Well, that explains a lot," Ranma said, grinning himself. "No wonder he gets so nervous whenever he sees her."

Doctor Tofu reached for his glass of tea again, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to calm himself with another drink. Once he had regained composure, he set down his now empty cup—most of the tea had spilled onto the floor—and sat up straighter, becoming serious once again. "Now for the reason I asked you both here," he said, looking intently at the two of them, all traces of the silly, love-struck doctor, gone. "I noticed the red string connecting the two of you the moment I met Ranma."

Again, he was met by stunned silence and blank stares. Even Akane looked floored this time.

"I can assure you it's no mistake," he said, lifting his hands to silence any imminent protests. "It wasn't as strong as it is now," he admitted with a smile, "but your connection is unmistakable; even without my ability I could have seen it."

Blushing furiously, both of their chairs were instantly moved half-way across the room as they attempted to put as much distance between themselves as they could. Doctor Tofu laughed good-naturedly as they quickly began denying any such connection, the words tomboy and pervert being thrown around the room more times than he could count.

Again, he held up his hand, attempting to put an end to their bickering. "These dreams," he interrupted firmly, his voice serious as he attempted to remind them why they were there. "I think they may be related to the connection the two of you share." Again, his eyes grew troubled, and he looked at them each in turn. "When Ranma came in this morning, I noticed that something was wrong. Your red string of fate—well, usually it's bright, one of the brightest I've seen—but this morning, it seemed… _fainter_… somehow."

"Fainter?" Akane asked, inching closer to doctor Tofu, a hint of worry in her voice. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"When you're both together the red string of fate is very bright—almost solid. But now," he said, motioning to the space between them, to a line neither of them could see. "It's still there, but… it's weaker, somehow. It's as if… it's as if something is obscuring the line." He paused for a moment, watching their faces.

"It looks like there's a shadow over it," he told them softly.

* * *

They weren't quite sure how to take the news, nor did they seem willing to bring it up… so their walk home continued to be ruled by silence. Every now and then, however, Ranma found his eyes drifting to his reluctant fiancée. Akane, like him, seemed determined to avoid eye-contact at all costs: her head was turned away from him, her gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. 

Fine. If she wanted to play the avoidance game, then so would he. After all, he had enough to worry about as it was… his mind was still troubled by everything Doctor Tofu's had said.

Had he been serious? Were he and Akane… were they really...? Ranma quickly shook his head; willing such thoughts away. It was ridiculous, that's what it was. All he an Akane ever did was fight. To think that they could—that they were—it was crazy! Laughable, even.

But did _she_ believe it?

Again, he chanced a quick look at Akane, trying to figure out just what she was thinking. Usually, such a task was easy—Akane, despite her moodiness, was normally an easy enough person to read. It didn't take a rocket scientist, for instance, to figure out when she was angry.

But this time, he couldn't read anything! Aside from the slight blush he could see slowly spreading across her face, she didn't look angry… uncomfortable or embarrassed, maybe, but not…

Wait a sec.

She was _blushing_…?

Ranma, at this, suddenly began to blush himself. He hadn't realized just how long he'd been staring at her. Immediately he looked away, trying to cover his blunder by coughing uncomfortably. Desperate for a distraction, he turned his attention to the sky instead. By the looks of it, it was growing darker—clouds were disappearing, and the sky was beginning to turn from pink to purple; a sure sign that nighttime would soon be upon them.

…And another night meant more dreams…

Ranma sighed. The Doctor had been right; he _did_ have more questions now than answers.

But on the bright side, at least he an Akane would be able to get some sleep tonight. Feeling the weight of the small bag he was carrying, he smiled. Even if Doctor Tofu couldn't tell them for certain what was going on, at least he had thought to give them something that would help them sleep better…

…Though it was a small consolation.

He _still_ couldn't rid himself of the feeling that something was wrong. And it was getting damn annoying.

If everything that Doctor Tofu had told them was true… then what did it all mean? Could that man he had heard in his dream—could he be connected somehow?

And what about Jusendou…? At first, he was convinced that if anything was wrong, it was somehow responsible… but now he wasn't so sure. And the image of that strange shadow—the one Doctor Tofu had mentioned—he couldn't get it out of his mind.

…For some reason, that frightened him much more than Jusendou ever could.

Glancing at his fiancée once again, he frowned. She still seemed to be making it a point to ignore him.

Feh, as stubborn as ever…

Looking away, he nodded his head in determination, having come to a sudden decision. Tomorrow… he'd talk to her tomorrow. As much as he hated the idea of such a conversation, he knew they had to talk about it eventually—it couldn't go on like this.

Again, not speaking a word, they entered the gates of the Tendo Dojo.

* * *

Despite the convenience of modern medicine, the dreams returned again that night.

* * *

It was different from before. 

Now, the memories came in quick flashes of light, like a camera going off at full speed. And within each flash, an image…

Instinctively, he knew what it was he was seeing. He could clearly remember small, insignificant details: the scent of the place, a sound of long forgotten people—the _feel_ of the image itself—and for a second, he was there again…

…reliving a lifetime in brief, stolen moments.

But there was one flash, one memory, which stood out from the rest.

He saw Emi standing on a flight of stairs, smiling down at him. They weren't the only people in the room… but it felt like they were. And his body felt glued to the spot, his eyes, his mind—all focused on her. She was wearing a long white dress, one which accentuated every line, every curve of her body, and her long dark hair fell down her back in waves.

She was beautiful, and Daichi couldn't take his eyes off her.

…He wasn't the only one…

He knew it with blinding clarity, as if a person had just whispered it in his ear; and with it came other thoughts—thoughts that he shouldn't have known—_couldn't_ have known.

It was this day, he suddenly realized.

Whatever happened—whatever they did—it's what forced Emi to die over and over again; forced him to watch the woman he loved vanish from his life forever. And with it, came the guilt, anger, and self-reproach for not being able to stop it.

But for now, in this moment, it had yet to happen.

So all he could think about was how beautiful she looked, and how much he loved her. Tonight, she was standing beside _him_—not one of her other suitors—and though he was embarrassed by the added attention, he was undeniably happy.

And alert.

_Very_ alert.

Today, Emi would finally announce who was to be her fiancée. It was a formality, really; everyone already knew who she had chosen. But some still refused to accept it.

For many, losing to the likes of Daichi Satake, was unbearable.

And even though Daichi knew there were enough guards around to handle any one of Emi's crazy suitors—not to mention his own—he wasn't taking any chances.

Not tonight.

That's why it didn't take him long to notice the strange man across the room—the one who was slowly making his way towards them. He was dressed completely in black and seemed to embrace the shadows, staying closest to the walls, where it was darker. But no matter how hard Daichi tried, he couldn't make out the man's face through the thickness of the crowd… though it didn't take him long to realize why: he was wearing a large, hooded cloak, successfully covering any distinguishable features that would have made him recognizable.

And though Daichi only looked away for a second, when he tried again to locate him, the cloaked stranger was gone.

That's why it was so surprising when seconds later he heard a low, raspy voice in his ear. Somehow, he knew who the voice belonged to, even before the shadowy man had started to speak.

"It'd be a shame to lose one so pretty. It's her birthday today, is it not?"

Daichi's eyes narrowed dangerously, instantly recognizing the unspoken threat. But when he turned around to confront the voice… the man in black was gone.

And so was Emi.

For a moment, he could only stand there, unsure of what exactly had just occurred. He had _told_ her not to leave his side—to let him know where she was going at all times. And he _knew_ she had been standing beside him only moments ago… she wasn't stupid enough to go wandering around without him—not when there were three or four very angry girls who'd love to see her dead, not to mention a room full of desperate men who would give anything to get her alone in order to try and force her hand.

Glancing around the huge room, he scanned the crowds, frustrated to find that no one was paying attention to him for once—that nobody even seemed _aware_ that she was missing—or concerned, for that matter. And where were the damn guards!

Somehow, he managed to search throughout the castle, checking in all her favorite places—the kitchen, the stables, the library—the shadowy man's words echoing in his mind all the while. Eventually, he found himself outside in the garden.

And to his relief, at last, he found her… though the relief didn't last long.

Emi was lying on a bench, unmoving. Her long white dress draped over the sides of the bench, trailing along the dirty ground beneath.

Slowly, he approached her, his heart beating uncontrollably within. If she was playing a joke on him, he swore he'd never forgive her—not tonight, not when she knew how important it was to stay where it was safe. But the closer he got, the more certain he became that this was no joke.

Usually, by now, she'd be shifting slightly—her body trembling as she shook with barely restrained laughter.

But now… she was almost _too_ still…

His heart pounded in his ears as he ran to her; no longer caring if he fell for another one of her stupid, senseless jokes. He kneeled beside her and gave her body a gentle shake. His long hair that was always pulled into a pigtail fell over his shoulder at the sudden movement—but for once in her life, she didn't reach up and pull on it.

"Wake up," he told her firmly. "This isn't funny anymore."

But she stayed where she was, breathing lightly —the only thing stopping him from losing it completely.

Then, the raspy voice from before, returned; though somehow, the voice was familiar. "I won't let you have her," it said.

Daichi turned around, blue-grey eyes narrowed in fury. "You don't have much of a choice," he replied through gritted teeth. Though he was no fighter, he threw his hands into the air, mimicking a fighting stance. Though the intent behind the stance was intimidating… it was largely ineffective. His feet were positioned awkwardly and were too far apart, and his knuckles were braced for only minimum impact.

His opponent laughed. "It seems I have the upper-hand this time," he said.

"Look, buddy. I don't know _what_ you're talking about, and honestly, I don't care… there's no way I'm letting you touch Emi." Deciding not to give his opponent the chance to respond, Daichi launched himself at the other man, his fists beginning a clumsy and uncoordinated attack.

The other man avoided them easily, laughing as he side-stepped the harmless barrage of punches. But soon he grew tired of the game, and sweeping his hands through the air in one quick motion, Daichi heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath… and then the stranger stopped dodging altogether.

Daichi quickly grew agitated as he suddenly found his punches going nowhere near their target. Even though the hooded man was just _standing_ there, wide open, none of his attacks were connecting—it was like an invisible shield had suddenly been constructed, keeping all of his attacks at bay.

He was so busy trying to find a way to break through those iron defenses, that he _almost_ didn't notice the shadowy man mumbling more strange words under his breath—_almost_ didn't notice the eerie green light that was suddenly forming in his palms, or that beneath the hood he wore, he was smiling.

And for a second, Daichi could only see a huge dark shadow looming before him—not a tall, lanky man in a cloak. And then that huge ball of dark energy left the thing's hands… and Daichi, seeing it coming straight towards him, threw himself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the blast.

But the girl on the bench wasn't so lucky.

A strange shadow began to envelope his fiancée, and he could see her struggling for breath. Climbing quickly to his feet, he ran to her, calling her name though he knew she couldn't hear… and he couldn't seem to run fast enough, his body felt like lead. The shadow enveloping her was growing larger as her breathing grew shallower… until it looked like she was no longer breathing at all.

But before he could reach her he felt something cold and dark rush past him, and then the cloak the shadowy man had worn suddenly merged with the green shadow hovering over his fiancée. It grew larger and darker then; and almost took on the shape of a man.

Finally the shadowy creature lifted itself off of Emi, and turning to Daichi, smiled. "I was hoping to feed off you," it said, in a rougher, deeper voice than before, "but the girl will do just as well." Laughing, it began to grow smaller; Daichi could only stare after it. "Until next time," the creature said. And snaking itself into a thin, straight line, it seemed to shoot towards him for a moment; but then it was gone.

Behind, a body lay unnoticed on the ground… something Daichi would only become partially aware of after Emi's body was finally pried from his cold, resisting arms.

But there, the memory ended: the view of the garden began to fade altogether… though he still could hear the taunting words of the creature, echoing all around him.

"…next time…"

And then the quick flashes of light returned, even faster than before; and Ranma was bombarded with images of past lives—all of them eerily similar to the scene in the garden he had just left behind.

Different names, different places… but always them. And they all ended in much the same way.

Emi… she was just the beginning.

* * *

Ranma was sitting up in bed now, his head in his hands, his heart racing. 

Hundreds of years had just passed before his very eyes—and with them, memories, feelings, thoughts—things buried long ago, finally resurfaced.

He saw himself after her death: depressed and lonely as he tried to cope with his loss. Putting all of his anger and grief into training, slowly he started to shift his energy towards revenge. When the time came to protect her again, he wanted to be prepared—and to kill the thing that had taken her from him over and over again.

Daichi was the last and only time he allowed himself to be weak.

But even with all of his preparation, training, and self-discipline—no matter how many techniques, tricks, or spells he found—they were never enough to save her.

It was a blow to his pride, just as much as it was a blow to his heart. In _this_ life, Ranma's power came from his ability to adapt to a situation and learn from his mistakes. After being defeated by an opponent once, it never happened again.

Now, it was his worse nightmare come true: in a battle that truly mattered—a battle he'd been fighting over and over again, from one life to the next—he still hadn't won.

Not only had he failed as her fiancée... he had failed as a martial artist. And if the art couldn't save her… what could?

Akane...

Suddenly he wanted desperately to see her.

Something within him pushed him to his feet. He stood, heedless of the consequences, and made his way to his fiancée's room. It was strange how he didn't feel the usual things he did when he reached her door: nervous, embarrassed, hesitant… his overwhelming need to see her outweighed all of his usual fears.

And Akane answered after only one knock.

With a confidence he normally didn't feel, Ranma easily turned the doorknob, and peeking his head around the door, whispered a quick, quiet, "Hey."

Akane made no move to show she'd heard him. She was sitting up in bed, head leaning against the headboard, wide awake. For a moment, he wondered if she even knew he was there—not that it really mattered to him. He could see her just as well from here, after all... and that was all he'd really wanted. Just to see her again, if even for a moment, to assure himself that she was really there—that she was still okay.

But finally he saw her shift a little, though to an untrained eye, the motion was barely noticeable. "Hi," she told him, glancing in his general direction at last.

Ranma took that as invitation enough.

Walking into the room he shut the door behind him, making his way to her bed, guided by the light streaming in through her window. He could see Akane perfectly, despite the darkness; and without a word, he positioned himself at the very end, careful to keep his distance.

He wasn't sure how much she remembered… and even if he did, he'd still have noidea what to say to her—where to begin. But he knew he had to say _some_thing. She was staring at him; her eyes troubled.

"Akane…"

"It's true, isn't it?" she said, cutting him off. "What Doctor Tofu said? About the red string of fate…?" She paused then, and her eyes became unreadable. "Ranma… these dreams… they're real, aren't they."

It was more of a statement than a question, really. But Ranma felt compelled to answer it all the same. "Yeah," he said nodding, his voice low, "they are." He had known it instinctively the moment he woke up—when all his memories had suddenly returned.

"I see," she replied just as slowly, her eyes on her bed. She said nothing else; just stared at her comforter, her hands lying prone beside her.

It was… strange. How calmly she took the news. Ranma watched her carefully, his brow furrowed in worry. Waiting…

…Waiting for a reaction that apparently wasn't coming.

Why the hell was she being so quiet?

The old Akane… she'd be yelling, screaming, kicking, throwing things… doing _something_! She wouldn't just sit back and _take_ it, that's for damn sure.

That kinda reaction… he hadn't realized just how much he'd been looking forward to it.

It was something uniquely _them_. Ranma and Akane, fighting, even in the face of an impending disaster.

Not Emi. Not Daichi. Not Ayane or Ryuu, Minako or Katsuro…

No past lives, no hidden agendas, no talking shadows… just two sixteen year olds, engaged by their stubborn fathers against their wills.

And her anger, her stubbornness… those he could handle. But a quiet, sulking Akane… he didn't know what to do when she was like this. Was he supposed to comfort her? Hold her? Tell her everything would be fine, and to trust him?

Would she still be willing to?

Now he wasn't quite so sure. Only yesterday any one of those options would've been unthinkable. Now, however, it felt natural to want to touch her… natural and _right_. But the part of him that wasn't so brave—that was still unsure of her feelings—held him at bay, and far away at the other end of the bed.

Uncomfortably, Akane shifted positions. "Ranma," she said softly, suddenly looking up at him. Her beautiful brown eyes were deceptively calm, though it was impossible to miss the fear that was hidden in her voice. "Am I… am I going to die?"

It was such a despairing question, that Ranma could only stare back at her, trying to ease the sudden pressure he felt building throughout his body—in his head, his chest, his heart.

But the hesitancy, the fear—they instantly vanished the moment he realized she was shaking.

And his arms were around her seconds later.

He held her tightly, desperately; as if afraid she'd vanish. It was painful almost… the intensity of his embrace. But Akane was too overwhelmed by all she'd seen; too much in shock to let him know he was crushing her—if she even realized it herself.

"You won't die," he told her firmly, though his voice was close to breaking. "I won't let it happen again, Akane. You gotta believe me." Before she had time to reply, he pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes; his hands still around her, his expression, almost pained. "I love you," he said. "I always have."

The words came so naturally, so easily.

And then, leaning forward, he kissed her—all traces of the shy, embarrassed boy she'd lived with for the past year gone. His lips were gentle against hers, and she felt herself give into his touch; the feelings she'd tried to deny for so long, vanishing in the wake of his kiss and the feel of his fingers brushing against her skin. Everything felt so familiar, so comforting... and in that moment, she knew she needed nothing else.

"I love you too," she whispered. And with all her heart, she meant it.

* * *

Later, Ranma would remember what it was he had always overlooked in his dreams—the one thing that had been bothering him since they first began. And though he had tried his hardest to block it out, afraid to face the thought, it came to him the moment he least wanted it too. 

In every dream, she died on March 29th.

The day she turned seventeen…

* * *

Authors Notes

I'm SOOOO sorry. I really can't believe it took me this long to get this chapter out! And still, I can't exactly say I'm happy with how it turned out—to be honest, I just got sick of re-editing it. I seriously rewrote so much of this; I'm just more than ready to get on with the next chapter... so I hope none of you are too dissatisfied with this installment. (I know Akane's closing line is cheesy as hell, but really, I'm too tired right now to try and make it sound normal).

And I know the end with Ranma and Akane happens kind of abruptly… but considering the circumstances, I don't think it's too much of a stretch. I mean, they did just get all their memories of their past lives back, and look what happened to Mamoru and Usagi when they remembered theirs! And Ranma and Akane do have a history together, so I think it's believable. Though I do wish I would have added a little more to the end… maybe when I get done with Part 3, I'll go back and add a little more. I just don't have the energy to do it right now… sorry. :(

Oh! And Akane's birthday… I don't think it ever mentions when it is in the manga (or the anime for that matter). I searched on the internet to try to find it, and some random site said it was March 29th. I can't say I really believe it, but the date sounded good, so I used it anyway. But really, that date's not written in stone… more like, sand… that's about to be washed away by the tide. And I know it seems like they should be older than 17 by now, but in the manga time never really passes (they stay in the same class, and though certain holidays do occur, no birthdays ever do). So to stay as faithful as I could (which trust me, is hard to do) I just decided to keep them at 16 for continuances sake: though I really wanted it to be Akane's 18th birthday, since I liked the sound of that better…

And if the whole flashback scene with Emi and Daichi is confusing, don't worry, what really happened will be further explained in Part 3. And yes, I know Doctor Tofu suddenly disappeared in the series, but I don't care. I brought him back anyway. I've always liked him, and obviously he played a rather large part in this story. ;)

And really, thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed—I never would have gotten this done without your encouragement… and playful pestering, of course. Hopefully, this chapter didn't scare you away. If not, I'll see you next chapter!

**_Sodalicious_**: Okay, I updated, now it's your turn, lol.

And **_Vaniah_** that means you too! ;)

Angela Jewell


	3. Part Three

(I apologize for the HORRIBLE formatting. If you want it to look all nice, and more like how I actually _wrote _it, then feel free to read it on my website instead. I never have figured out how to load my story so that it looks normal...)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There was still something from the visions last night he knew he was forgetting; some small detail he had somehow _again_ managed to overlook. It was there, right on the edge of his memory, teasing him, testing his patience…

He knew it was important.

But he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was.

And it was annoying the _hell_ out of him! Hadn't he already learned everything he could from these dreams? Last night, he had been so sure—he'd convinced himself that he finally understood what was going on. So why—_why_ did it feel like he was still missing something?

The strain of it… he could almost feel it affecting him physically. Even now, it felt like something was tugging at him—willing him to remember. Again, his mind replayed every detail, relived every moment; everything he'd seen; everything he'd heard; and any small detail that might have escaped him.

…Nothing came.

The tugging sensation was growing more persistent with each failed attempt; his arm felt heavy, as if something were physically _pulling_ on it. Pulling rather harder, in fact.

What _was_ it he was forgetting…?

That was the last thing Ranma recalled; next thing he knew, his entire body was being yanked painfully to the side, and his head hit his desk. Groaning, he put a hand to his aching head as he slowly sat up. Then, remembering where he was, he glanced down at the offending hand that was holding his arm, unamused.

"Dummy," Akane hissed from her desk, finally releasing his sleeve. "If you're going to daydream, do it when Miss. Hinako _isn't_ in a bad mood! She's already drained two people! Do you want to be the third?"

Ranma instantly deflated, the fact that he was still stuck in school quickly dulling his mood. "Heh, like she could even if she wanted too," he replied, pulling himself upright.

Akane rolled her eyes and proceeded to ignore him, promptly returning her attention to the front of the room where an adult Hinako-sensei was standing. Ranma sighed as he settled his head back on his desk. He still couldn't figure out why Akane had insisted on coming to class anyway. Didn't they have more important things to worry about...! They could be at Doctor Tofu's right now, figuring out a battle plan or something.

Lifting his head slightly, Ranma allowed his gaze to wander around the room, trying once again to relieve his boredom. Dumb Akane… he had been so close too… a little longer, and he was sure he would've remembered.

Besides, it wasn't like anyone _else_ was actually paying attention to Miss Hinako's lecture. Daisuke and Hiroshi looked just as bored as him—though Daisuke noticeably more so. He was slumped over his desk, his body flat and lifeless; Ranma frowned. It didn't take him long to recognize a drain victim when he saw one…

Even more troubling, however, was the fact that he couldn't seem to conjure up the usual feelings of anger and disgust he normally felt for his drain-happy teacher. Even though a confrontation with Miss Hinako would have been a welcome distraction, he just couldn't seem to find the motivation to initiate it.

Instead, he continued scanning the room, searching for victim number two. For a moment, he _thought_ he found him in the form of Gosunkugi Hikaru, who was sitting in the back of the room. The other boy's arms were dangling uselessly by his sides, and he looked miserably pale, and almost half-dead. His head was lying motionless on the desk, while his eyes—to Ranma's utter annoyance—stared unblinkingly at Akane.

…Then he remembered that Gosunkugi **_always_** looked that way...

He found Hinako's _real_ lastvictim moments later. The unlucky boy was half-sitting, half-lying in a chair by the window—flat as could be, and newly drained. Part of his arm was hooked around the chair, holding him in place; and if not for that, Ranma was sure his body would have floated away.

Unfortunately, all of the other students were too afraid of being drained to offer any real form of entertainment. And the chances of Shampoo or Kodachi busting through the walls to see him anytime soon, were slim to none: ever since the failed wedding, his fiancée's had been surprisingly effective in using doors and keeping property damage to a minimum. Not that he could blame them… his mother and Kasumi could be quite persuasive when they wanted to be.

With nothing left to distract him, Ranma found his mind quickly returning to his earlier train of thought. Almost unconsciously, he closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on that night so long ago... willing the memories and their details to come…

...Until he felt Akane elbowing him not-so-lightly in the ribs.

Opening his eyes, he turned to glare angrily at his fiancée—only to see her glaring back, her expression perfectly mirroring his own. They sat that way for several long minutes; their gazes locked in silent, heated battle; neither one willing to admit defeat. But slowly, after several more minutes had passed, he could see Akane's resistance slowly wavering: her eyes seemed to lose their angry, familiar fire, and her lips turned down, no longer a tight, thin line. Finally, sighing, she abruptly turned away, and her body seemed to sag in its chair.

Ranma watched her uncomfortably, unsure what just occurred, yet confident that somehow he had just won. And though this small victory should have made him feel better... for some reason, it only made him feel worse.

Things should've changed between them by now. After everything they'd talked about, everything they remembered—they had come to some sorta agreement, hadn't they? So why was she still acting like the same uncute, dorky chick he'd known for the past year?

Was she _trying_ to forget everything that had happened last night...? He sure as hell couldn't think of any other reason for her behavior.

Just this morning, she had even reverted to her old habit of calling him a jerk and a pervert at every opportunity—and for once, without any provocation on his part! And then, on their way to school, she even _insisted_ that he walk on the fence rather than beside her… not that he cared, really. He hadn't been exactly pleased with her for dragging him off to school in the first place…

But... he still loved her.

He couldn't deny it as easily as she could.

Crossing his arms, Ranma placed his head in the comfortable crook within. Uncute tomboy... she was more trouble than she was worth, if you asked him. With nothing better to do, he turned his attention back on Miss Hinako, silently daring her to drain him.

_…And then, a flash of memory…_

…_A dark shadow, a flying cloak…_

Ranma's head shot up, and his eyes narrowed.

...Why did that make him think of his dream...?

The answer came rather suddenly. He saw the image again, as if it were in slow motion: the figure of a body falling to the ground, forgotten and abandoned, as the dark shadowy creature left it behind to fly towards Akane. But it wasn't the creature that drew his attention this time.

"I got it!" Ranma shouted as he jumped triumphantly to his feet.

Turning towards Akane, he grabbed her arm—ignoring her concerned, angry protests as he proceeded to drag her out of the room. Their classmates watched with wide-eyed, incredulous stares while Miss Hinako froze at the chalkboard, her hand raised in midair, chalk held tightly between her fingers.

Taking a deep breath, she released it, lowering her arm. She'd been in enough battles with Ranma to know when he was serious, and when he was just looking for a fight… judging by his outburst and his strange behavior leading up to it, she knew it was pointless to chase after him now. Quietly vowing to punish him later, she pulled out a five-yen piece, and proceeded to drain two particularly noisy students instead.

As expected, the classroom considerably quieted after that, and returning to the chalkboard, she continued her lecture without further interruption.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Although Akane had stopped struggling almost immediately after exiting the school, she still didn't appreciate being forcefully dragged against her will. Not without good reason, anyhow. And Ranma seemed determined not to give her one.

"Ranma," she asked again, for the hundredth time. "Will you _please_ tell me what's going on!"

Shaking his head, he tightened his grip on her arm. "Just wait a bit," he answered. "I'll explain everything when we get to Doctor Tofu's."

Akane frowned at his evasive reply, but tried to resign herself to the walk ahead. She wasn't _really_ angry about being dragged out of class in the middle of their lecture: a part of her had always known it would come to this. After all, Ranma wasn't the type of person to sit still while there was trouble.

And even _she_ had trouble concentrating in class today. Her mind kept conjuring up images from their past... but with the images, came more and more questions. That was really what was worrying Akane; what had her jumping at shadows, and staring into space.

There had to be a reason for all this; a reason why they'd suddenly started remembering. It was a distinct advantage anyway she looked at it. So was the creature **_that_** confident…? Was it so sure they couldn't beat it? Glancing again at Ranma, she continued to watch him closely.

What was it he thought he knew...? And more importantly, did he only remember because the creature wanted him to?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"There was a body," Ranma stated bluntly, facing Doctor Tofu. "The first time—before that damn thing took Akane, it had some sorta body. I'm not sure if it possessed someone, or something—or if it was a person, and then _became_ that shadowy-thing—but it was a person _first_, somehow. Does that—could that mean anything?"

Something almost resembling a smile touched Doctor Tofu's lips. "Well, that would certainly make things easier to understand, wouldn't it? If this wasn't some random monster at all, but instead, something somebody conjured up, then you could very well be dealing with a spell or a curse of some kind."

"A curse?" Akane asked, surprised. She knew a thing or two about curses—you had to when you lived in Nerima and had a sex-changing fiancée—but for some reason, in this particular case, that possibility had never once crossed her mind.

"It would certainly help explain how these incidents keep reoccurring," Doctor Tofu replied. "However, a curse that strong would require very powerful magic as well as some sort of trigger. Much like the cursed springs of Jusenkyo requires cold water to activate."

"So… if we can find whoever summoned that monster—or cursed us or whatever—then we should be able to figure out how to stop it? Right?"

"Well, logically," said Doctor Tofu slowly, unprepared to commit himself fully to his answer. "But that's only if this _is_ a curse you're dealing with… though from everything you've told me of your dreams, it is highly likely. Of course, it's impossible to know anything for sure," he told them, his voice lowering as he adopted the tone he normally used when dealing with patients. "First, you'd have to find the source of the curse. Otherwise, this is all just theory."

"A theory's better than nothing, doc," Ranma said, climbing to his feet. "At least now we've got something to focus on. We've just gotta find the guy that summoned that thing, that's all."

Akane looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "That's all?" she asked, sounding exasperated. "Do you even know how we'd go about doing that, Ranma? What if the person who cast it, isn't even here? And even if they are," she continued flatly, "how would we go about _finding_ them? For all we know, they could be leading perfectly normal lives, and not remember a thing. We might not even _know_ them."

Ranma visibly deflated at that, feeling slightly more discouraged. She was right, he realized. After all, they couldn't very well go door to door, demanding answers. Well, they _could_—but he knew Akane would never go for it.

"Actually," Doctor Tofu said, coming to Ranma's aid, "it's very likely that you do know the person, Akane. A spell of such power... well, it would be impossible for the caster _not_ to be connected to you in some way. Of course," he quickly added, "I'm not saying that they have to play a necessarily large role in your lives… but they are, most likely, present in it. A curse, you see, is binding to _everyone_ involved. So checking out any possible suspects, including this body you saw in your dreams—well, it wouldn't be a bad place to start."

Turning to his fiancée, Ranma grinned. "See?" he said, sticking his tongue out at her.

Ignoring the jibe, Akane frowned. She still wasn't convinced that this wasn't all some wild goose chase; but pushing her doubts aside, she turned to Doctor Tofu. "Do you think you could keep looking into that creature for us, Doctor?" she asked. "The more we learn about our opponent, the better."

Smiling warmly, he nodded. "I'll do what I can," he promised.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It had only been five minutes. But it felt like much longer…

She watched Ranma closely; afraid that if she looked away even for a moment, she might turn to see him gone.

Ever since they'd left Doctor Tofu's, he'd been acting strangely—more subdued, more distant. He hadn't spoken once about his plans to find the person from his memories—the one who could be responsible for everything they'd been through. And instead of trying to take her hand and walk beside her like he'd done that morning, he had jumped immediately onto the railing of the fence, his back to her, careful to keep a little distance between them.

With a sinking feeling, she realized he was using her own tactics against her...

Normally, such an affront would have made her angry—this time, however, she knew she deserved it. Though honestly, his behavior couldn't have come at a worse time: here she was, ready to put it all behind her and move on... and he was still being stubborn.

Yet every time she opened her mouth to apologize—to explain why she had acted the way she had—she ended up embarrassed or frustrated and closed her mouth without saying a word.

How could she explain it to him when she couldn't even explain it to _herself_...?

But the longer she stalled, the more the silence between them grew. She could tell he was coming closer to his breaking point: his entire body was tense, his back rigid, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. She was sure he wanted to say something, but by will alone, was keeping it to himself.

Feeling the pressure to say something—_anything_—Akane smiled as the answer suddenly presented itself. After all... if he could use _her_ techniques, then surely, she could use some of _his_.

And the art of avoidance was one of Ranma's specialties.

"You're such a dummy," she said at last, comfortable in territory she was more familiar with. "Why are you walking up there, anyway?"

Ranma, as predictable as ever, stopped walking and turned to eye her warily. But Akane didn't stop. Instead, she began to swing her book-bag cheerfully back and forth (the perfect guise of happiness) as she passed him.

Ranma, not to be outdone, jumped off the fence and ran to catch up with her. Once he had, however, he quickly realized he had _no idea _what to do next; being angry in an attempt to force her to apologize (or better yet beg for his forgiveness) didn't seem to be working.

Finally, sighing, he crossed his arms behind his head. "Man," he mock-sighed, "you'd think remembering our past lives woulda gave me _some_ kinda insight into the way you think. But jeez, Akane—you _still_ confuse me today just as much as you did the first time we met."

In reply, smiling, Akane tried to hit him a couple times with her schoolbag, only to have him playfully dodge each and every attempt. "Dummy," she said, laughing softly.

Finally, growing serious, Ranma caught her bag in his hands, quickly bringing their game to an end. "Do you have any idea who it could be?" he asked suddenly, releasing her satchel.

Caught off guard by the abruptness of the question, Akane looked down at the pavement, shaking her head. In truth, she did have several names in mind—Shampoo, Kodachi, and Ukyo among them—but she knew Ranma probably wouldn't appreciate her accusing _all_ of his fiancées at once.

Though really... who had better reason to want her dead then them?

"I've been thinking it might be Kuno," Ranma told her, apparently having no such qualms himself. "Or maybe Ryoga," he added thoughtfully. Uncomfortable memories of the wishing sword and the fishing rod of love instantly came to mind. "Both of them are definitely stupid enough to try something dangerous like that, anyway."

"Ryoga wouldn't do that, Ranma," Akane told him. "And Kuno doesn't have any reason to want me dead. I'd sooner believe it was Kodachi or Shampoo—at least _they_ have motives."

Ranma grinned as he took a step towards her. "Yeah, but you're forgetting something important," he told her, reveling in the knowledge that he knew something she didn't. "Whoever cast this was initially after _me_, remember? You got hit on the rebound."

Akane stopped dead in her tracks, and her mouth fell open wordlessly. That's right, a part of her realized… the creature had said something to that effect, hadn't he? It was Ranma, it had been after—not her.

She grew cold and numb at the thought.

...She was going through all of this because of some _mistake..._?

Ranma grew silent as well, as if just comprehending what he had said. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, angrily. "I really am an idiot."

"No," Akane said quickly, frustrated to feel tears in her eyes. "I'm the one who's sorry. _**I'm** _the idiot. I've been acting like a—a _fool_. I tried to pretend none of this was happening… that everything was normal… and I _knew_ that it wasn't, but I couldn't seem to stop doing it."

Ranma took a small step towards her. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached towards her face and gently wiped away the tears that had escaped. "Dummy," he told her. "I can't blame you for wanting to act like nothin' happened, Akane. Hell, **_I_** wanna pretend the same thing. But we both know pretendings not gonna solve anything."

"I know," Akane replied. She could feel her eyes burning again, as more tears threatened to escape. Closing her eyes tightly, she fought against them.

Since when had she become so weak…?

Without a word, Ranma took a step closer, quietly pulling her into his arms. To his relief she didn't pull away or protest, but instead, actually seemed to welcome the contact; encouraged, Ranma held her tighter. "I meant what I said," he whispered, his tone serious and soft. "I'm going to protect you no matter what, Akane."

Silently, she nodded against him; finally allowing the tears to flow freely.

She knew he meant every word… and yet… a part of her was still afraid it wouldn't be enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ranma 1/2 is the property and creation of Rumiko Takahashi and whoever else owns it. I'm not making any money off this so don't sue me. Besides, I'm broke.

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY  
Part 3

I spent all my life  
Looking for our innocence  
I've got nothing to lose  
One thing to prove  
I won't make the same mistakes  
Now I know  
That everything will be okay  
When I die tomorrow

If I die tomorrow  
As the minutes fade away  
I can't remember  
Have I said all I can say?  
You're my everything  
You make me feel so alive  
If I die tomorrow

-Motley Crue

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"No," Akane told him firmly even as she rolled her eyes. "You can't just go and bust down Kuno's door. We won't get anywhere if you just march in blindly and start demanding answers!"

"Aww, come on," Ranma complained. "How else are we gonna get him to fess up?"

"Dummy," she sighed, a small smile working its way to the corners of her lips. "Haven't you learned anything as a girl? A little friendly persuasion can go a long way. If we go there as Akane and the Pig-tailed Girl, I'm sure he'll be happy to tell us everything we need to know."

Crossing his arms, Ranma frowned. Damn. He couldn't deny the logic of her plan... but it sure took the fun out of the questioning process. Laying down on the dojo floor, he listened to the sound of rain pounding against the roof, hoping for sudden inspiration. The last thing he wanted was to use his girl-side to play into Kuno's sick fantasies—especially when the reward was questionable, at best.

After all… there was still a chance Kuno _wasn't_ the one.

And there were many, _many_ possible candidates—and all of them, he knew, could be just as dangerously single-minded as Kuno.

The problem, Ranma realized, was figuring out what to do if Kuno _wasn't_ their man.

"Fine," he said at last, resigned. There was no point in arguing with her anyway; in the end, he knew she'd get her way. Pushing against the floor with his feet, he sprang up into a standing position. "Let's get going then. No point in wasting time."

Akane nodded and stood, but suddenly stopped, surprised to see Kasumi standing in the entrance way. Ranma, noting her surprise, turned to see the eldest Tendo daughter, holding a small square box in her hands.

"Ah, I found this package for you Akane," she told her, moving into the room. "It was just sitting there, by the front gate."

"What is it?" Akane asked, her eyes examining the package as she took it from her sister. She could see her name written shabbily across the top flap.

"I'm not sure," Kasumi replied. "Perhaps someone wanted to give you an early birthday present. That's always nice." Smiling sweetly, she dusted her hands on our apron, and then turned to head back towards the house. "Well, I better get back to my shopping. Enjoy your present, Akane."

Ranma and Akane barely heard her: both of their eyes were focused on the package, silently trying to determine what lay inside. Shifting it lightly in her palms, the first thing Akane noticed was how light the box felt. For a brief moment, she wondered if it might be empty.

"Well," Ranma interrupted, sounding impatient and curious. "Aren't ya gonna open it?"

"Of course I am." Lifting one of the tiny flaps, Akane opened the top, surprised to see a small bag sitting at the bottom of the box.

"What is it?" Ranma asked, peering inside.

"I'm not sure," she replied, lifting it out of its case. There was a knot holding the bag closed, but after gently pulling on one of its ends, it opened easily.

Inside, was a pile of some white, powdery substance.

Akane didn't dare touch it: she had enough experience with strange potions and powders, thanks to Shampoo and Cologne. She could only _imagine_ what this one would do!

"Hey, something's still in there," Ranma told her, pointing to the side of the box where a tiny sheet of paper was folded over, flush against the side. Drawing it out, Akane unraveled it, and read the words out loud for Ranma to hear.

_Akane Tendo, please use this protective powder._

"That's weird," she said, after reading aloud the poorly written kanji. "Why would someone send me this?" Handing the paper to her fiancée, she frowned. "Do you recognize the writing, Ranma?"

Looking it over quickly, he shook his head. "Nope—though their writing's worse than mine. Kinda strange they didn't sign it."

Shrugging her shoulders, Akane closed the bag once again and dropped it back into its box. "Well, it's a nice gesture anyway. I wonder who sent it."

"Ah, who knows," Ranma replied, no longer sounding interested. "We gotta get goin' though. We still have to question Kuno."

Akane nodded and prepared to follow him out of the dojo and towards the main house—until she was unexpectedly stopped. Soun Tendo stood before them, holding a long, cylinder object in his hands.

"Akane, Ranma, I'm glad I ran into you," he told them as he handed them the strange looking object. "This was left in the yard. I assume it's for the both of you, since it has both your names on it. Strange way to deliver a package though, if you ask me."

"Thanks, dad," Akane said, looking at the object with suspicion. She had recognized the writing almost immediately—the same horrible script that had been on the other, and again it was unsigned. _Definitely_ suspicious, she decided. When she turned to look at Ranma, she noticed a similar expression on his face too.

Not wasting a second more, she swiftly tore off the paper that was covering the object, surprised to see two long, thin parchments rolled firmly together beneath the wrapping. Akane quickly grabbed the scroll bearing her own name, and handed Ranma's his.

When she had finished completely unraveling it, she found a small talisman lying in the center of the parchment, the character for long-life engraved on its shiny surface.

Ranma meanwhile, stood glowering at his. It was old and brown with age, and a tiny corner had even broken off—yet strangely, the character for loneliness and misery could still be seen clearly in the center.

"What the hell," he muttered, crinkling up the parchment his gift came in before throwing it to the ground. "Who does this jerk think he is?"

"Dummy," Akane replied, her eyes glued to the small trinket. "Isn't it obvious?"

Kicking at the newly formed trash at his feet, Ranma lifted his eyes to his fiancée. "What is?" he asked testily.

"This obviously has got to do with our past," Akane told him, her grip on the scroll tightening. "This can't be some sort of coincidence, can it? Long life, protection… they must know what's going to happen. Why else would they send us these!"

Any further debate was cut off as Nabiki came sauntering in. "Here," she said, throwing a beaded bracelet at her younger sister. "I found this at school. It has your name on it, so I can only assume it's for you."

"Geez, what is it now?" Ranma groaned.

Akane looked closely at the bracelet. "Hey, these are supposed to bring good luck," she said, fingering the small round beads. "I've seen these at some of the local temples with Yuka and Sayuri." She turned back to her sister. "Nabiki, do you know who left this for me? It's very important."

Nabiki shrugged. "Some girl from your class found it by your desk. She couldn't find you so she asked me to give it to you instead… but it definitely didn't sound like she knew who it was from, so I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

Akane frowned. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy. "Well, I suppose we could go to one of the shrines and see if they remember who bought it," she said, trying to look optimistic. "It's worth a try, at least."

"Okay," Ranma said as he grabbed her wrist and dragged her out into the rain. He barely noticed the change coming over him—his mind was completely focused on the task at hand.

_They had him!_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was the seventh temple they'd checked, and _still_ they were no closer to finding the mysterious buyer than when they'd first started their search. Feeling miserable, Akane leaned against a brick column; her earlier optimism had long since faded two temples ago.

"So, you don't remember selling any of these?" Ranma asked again, holding up the miscellaneous items.

The maiden smiled apologetically as she shook her head once again. "I'm sorry," she repeated, "but we sell so many, it's hard to remember specific people. Sorry I can't be of more help."

"Nah, it's fine," Ranma said, though his voice was a bit more hostile than he had intended. Bowing, the shrine maiden quickly hurried away as Ranma turned back to Akane. "What now?" he asked her, echoing her position against the column.

"Well, there's still two more shrines near here we could check out," she said dejectedly. "But I doubt we'll have any more luck there than we did at the last one hundred places."

Sighing, Ranma grabbed her hand and practically dragged her from the temple entrance. "Come on," he said, walking quickly. "We have to be at Doctor Tofu's soon, so we should have enough time left to hit those last two places first. 'Sides, we can't show up empty handed."

Too tired to argue, Akane allowed herself to be pulled along.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As expected, the next temple was a dead end. "Sure, we've sold those, but I can't recall every person who purchases something here. Sorry." Ranma and Akane nodded, expressing their thanks as they slowly walked away; neither could say they were especially surprised by the results.

Their expectations, by this point, were low, and their patience was quickly wearing thin. And when they came upon the last temple on their list—their last chance—they felt what little hope they'd managed to maintain, disappear.

Old and run-down, the temple had seen better days. Unlike the previous shrines which were beautifully built and carefully maintained—this one left much to be desired. Its main building was crumbling, and pieces of the supporting columns were missing.

Even the head of the shrine that greeted them upon their arrival, was faring no better: he was bent low as he walked, holding a cane in his left hand—his old, gray robes hanging loose over his body, trailing to the ground. And he had large shadows under his eyes and liver spots all over his body, while his hair—what he had left of it—was standing in all different directions.

Not expecting any real help, both were pleasantly surprised when the old man nodded as he held the trinkets in his hands, assuring them he recognized them.

"Sure do," he told them, nodding enthusiastically. "That would be my grandson. Seems he's got himself a girlfriend," he said, winking conspiratorially.

"Do you know where he is?" Akane asked, getting excited.

The old man smiled a toothless grin, as he pointed his cane in the direction of the prayer room. "He's in there," he told them. "Been there most of the day, far as I know. Parents sent him here hoping to snap him out of some strange, unhealthy addiction. Seems to be working too!" he added happily.

Quickly thanking him, Ranma and Akane headed where the old man had pointed, their hearts beating in unison as they approached the small room… neither knowing quite what to expect. And there, within the white-washed walls, was Hikaru Gosunkugi, kneeling beside the shrine, a pair of prayer beads in his hands.

Akane's mouth fell open in surprise, and she stared in wide-eyed disbelief at their often shy, quiet classmate. Her eyes drifted down to the items she held in her hand, not believing—not understanding. This didn't make any sense. Everyone knew Gosunkugi was into voodoo… so what was he doing here?

Ranma was quicker to recover from his shock; a look of undeniable fury had quickly taken its place as he suddenly remembered details from his memories—passing moments with this young man he'd always thought insignificant and unimportant.

Now everything made sense. Ranma cursed himself for not figuring it out sooner.

He had to force himself not to lunge at the other boy—to remind himself again and again, that he wasn't a martial artist. But if Ranma didn't get some _real_ good answers from Gosunkugi, then he would _love_ to make an exception...

In barely controlled anger, he said, "Mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

The other boy's entire body went tense, and slowly—so very slowly, he turned around, his eyes wide in shock and fear.

"Start talking," Ranma said, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why did you send us this stuff? Do you know...?" He let his last words hang in the air, already knowing the answer. But it was important to have that final confirmation; to hear it spoken out loud.

But all this time, Akane had remained quiet, silently watching the other boy uncomfortably, feeling sick and confused. A part of her was praying now that it was all a coincidence; that he wouldn't do something so awful—that it was all some kind of mistake.

_Kuno_ she could believe—some stranger even, but—but _Gosunkugi_? She barely even knew him! Sure, he was strange, and might have had a small crush on her... but she couldn't understand why anyone—especially him—would go to such lengths. Though, the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. He had always been into voodoo, into spells and charms. But she had always found him harmless...

"Well," Ranma continued, quickly growing impatient, "start talking already."

Gosunkugi didn't need any further motivation. With a long, shuddering sob, the boy that no one seemed to notice—the one who many people ignored and disregarded, finally started to talk. And Ranma and Akane quietly listened.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_On her sixteenth birthday, I saw Emi for the first time. She was standing at the top of the stairs, wearing a long, black dress—smiling and laughing, as she spoke with her father and her sisters._

…_I couldn't take my eyes off her…_

_She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen: everything she did **radiated** beauty. It was a part of her, something no other girl could ever hope to equal—she walked in beauty._

_And then, that night when her eyes met mine, I felt like I couldn't breathe, that my heart would never slow down, and that I would never get that image of her out of my mind again._

_Out of all the faces in the crowd—out of all the people she could have seen— she looked at me._

_It was only for a second, but I knew she must have felt something._

_After that, not a moment passed when I didn't think of her—not a day went by when I wasn't dreaming of her, of longing to make her mine, and mine alone._

…_But then she met Daichi... _

_The day I was told about the rumors—about their inevitable engagement, it felt like my heart had been torn from my chest. I knew I had no chance of winning her now—not with him in the picture._

_And he didn't deserve her. _

_Not Emi. Not MY Emi._

…_And just when I thought all hope was lost…_

_It was by chance that I found it—my master's old book, the one he had forbid me from ever reading. He kept it safely locked away, in a box that was protected by powerful magic—complex spells I could never hope to unlock._

_Powerful, that is, as long as it remained locked away. _

_And then it happened: one day when I wasn't expected, I saw to my astonishment and delight, the forbidden book, lying before me—open, inviting. It called to me from its place on my master's table. _

_Unable to resist the temptation, I read all I could, eagerly searching for something I could use. _

_And then I found it: a spell that could get you your heart's desire. _

_All I ever wanted was Emi._

_Without fear or regret, I read aloud the enchanted words… unmindful of my master's wrath, or the price it would cost me for using such powerful, forbidden magic. _

_I was in love, and desperate. And this was my last chance._

_I didn't know it was a summoning spell—that it was a way to conjure up a powerful demon that had been safely locked away for eons. If I had, I never would have gone through with it. _

_And the demon, it terrified me. _

…_but it said it could get me what I desired most…_

_So I followed its orders and received its commands, allowing it to become my new master. And the first thing my master said we needed to do was to get rid of Daichi…_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gosunkugi lowered his head. "That's the last thing I remember," he told them, shifting closer to the shrine. "It must have possessed me soon after that. The only other thing I remember is waking up after it was all over—after, after Emi was dead, and the demon was gone." He paused for a moment, his eyes dark with regret and anger. "The demon," he continued slowly, with difficulty, "it never meant to help me. It was just using me."

Ranma walked purposefully towards him, and raising his hand, slapped him across the face with his open palm. "Idiot!" he shouted, visibly shaking. "Do you have any idea what you did? Because of your stupidity that _thing_ latched itself onto Akane!"

Gosunkugi shrank away from him, clearly terrified. "I—I didn't mean to—" he faltered, his eyes wide.

Akane quickly stepped forward, moving so that she was standing between the two boys. "Ranma, stop it," she commanded, her voice hard. "Yelling at him won't get us anywhere. Gosunkugi," she continued, her eyes on him, "do you have any idea how to stop it?"

Looking miserable, he shook his head. "No," he replied so very softly. "Ever since I remembered, I've been looking but—but I haven't found a thing."

Akane took a long, deep breath, She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her anger in check. "Let's go," she said quickly, turning away from Gosunkugi and back to Ranma. "Maybe we'll have better luck with Doctor Tofu."

Gosunkugi visibly relaxed; no doubt glad the interrogation was over. But Ranma, grabbing his arm, hauled him to his feet. "Don't think you're off the hook yet," he told him. "You're coming with us."

Whimpering, Gosunkugi allowed himself to be dragged away, knowing from experience that struggling was useless. Even the thought of being in Akane Tendo's presence wasn't enough to relay his fears. His mind was busy conjuring up images of all the damage Ranma would do to him once he realized there was no way to save her.

His Grandfather cheerfully waved goodbye as he watched them leave the temple, no doubt thrilled that Hikaru appeared to have found friends.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Luckily, it didn't take them long to reach Doctor Tofu's: the chill, hostile air surrounding them had become almost palpable. As expected, the older man was waiting for them as they entered his office, one extra person in tow.

"Well," Doctor Tofu said, surprised to see the extra visitor. "Who do we have here?"

Ranma pushed the frightened pale boy forward, who immediately looked down at the ground. "Meet the guy who ruined our lives," Ranma said, his voice filled with bitterness. "Hikaru Gosunkugi."

Tofu smiled kindly for the newest guest. "Pleased to meet you, Gosunkugi-kun," he told him, bowing in greeting. "So," he continued, turning his attention to Ranma and Akane. "What did you two happen to find out?"

Akane was kind enough to fill him in on everything Gosunkugi had told them, while Ranma was preoccupied throwing death-glares in his direction every few seconds. When it was all over, Doctor Tofu leaned back, looking confused.

"That's odd," he told them, shaking his head. "If this demon was known to be extremely powerful, surely it would have been able to directly accomplish its task: why take the trouble of getting Daichi out of the way, when he should have been able to affect Akane directly?"

"Hey, I never thought of that," Ranma said, quickly turning to Gosunkugi. "Well?" he questioned. "Did the demon say anything else? Like, why he couldn't just snap his fingers and make her fall in love with you or something?"

At that, life seemed to return to Gosunkugi: his eyes lit up, and suddenly, he was smiling. "He—he did try something," he told them suddenly. "Soon after I summoned him—after I told him what I wanted—he tried some kind of spell. But, but I don't think it worked. He looked angry afterwards—but then, got excited, saying something about a thread of some sort. And that's when he told me we'd have to get rid of Daichi first."

Suddenly Doctor Tofu smacked his hand in his palm. "That's it!" he said, sounding excited. "I can't believe I missed it before!" Without wasting a moment, the good doctor stood up, and making his way towards his bookcase, grabbed a large leather-bound book from off the highest shelf. "It's somewhere in here, I think," he said, more to himself than to them. After flipping through several hundred pages, suddenly he stopped, and grinning triumphantly, pushed his glasses up higher along the ridge of his nose. "Here it is," he said, placing the book flat on the table before them.

It was only a small paragraph, with one word in bold followed closely by a short description. "I'm embarrassed that I never thought of it before," he told them, motioning towards the large book. "This is a book on mythical demons and gods. It was given to me by my great-great grandmother years ago. Unfortunately, I've never been very interested in this particular subject which is why it took me so long to remember. But if you'd care to read it aloud, Ranma, I think you'll realize why this section specifically, stood out in my mind."

Ranma, looking thoroughly confused, immediately complied, and bending low over the book read the short paragraph aloud.

**Fate**: A force that is said to predetermine a person's life; often seen as inescapable and unchangeable. This concept has been exemplified in many different ways: The Fates of Greek Mythology, The Red String of Fate, or Manifest Destiny, an American concept, to name a few.

"The key word here," Tofu continued at Ranma's blank and confused look, "is unchangeable. When something is said to be determined by fate, no one is supposed to be allowed to alter it. Even in Greek Myths, Zeus and the Gods were not permitted to control or alter it at their whims; they too were at the mercy of The Fates. The Red String then, is an extension of that same idea. Since you and Akane are joined by fate, the demon's magic was unable to touch you, and that's why it couldn't fulfill Gosunkugi's wish."

"But how did it manage to curse us then?" Akane asked, puzzled.

"I believe," Doctor Tofu went on uncomfortably, "that the creature, in some way, used Gosunkugi's wish to latch itself onto you by way of your red string. That, at least, would explain why it's been able to find you in every life: it's been connected to you this whole time. That shadow," he explained, staring at the point where it was glowing brightest, "_is_ the demon."

"Why hasn't Akane Tendo fallen in love with me then?" Gosunkugi complained, temporarily forgetting they were in the room with him. "I summoned it—it should still be forced to do my bidding!"

"Idiot," Akane replied angrily, beating Ranma to the punch. "I wouldn't fall in love with you if you were the last boy on Earth. No amount of magic could change that!"

"Technically, he _is_ fulfilling your wish," Tofu told him, ignoring the squabbling teenagers. "Since he can't force Akane to love you, he's doing the only other thing he can: keeping her away from the one fate's promised her to." Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for what he was about to say next. "You said, Ranma, that the creature made a mistake… that it was initially you it had intended to kill. If that's true, then that could explain why it keeps coming back. Since it took Akane by accident, it's unable to complete its debt to Gosunkugi—and until the circle is broken, I believe it will continue in much the same way."

"Okay," Ranma said slowly, taking it all in. "So how do we do that then? Nothing else we've tried has done much good."

"There are only two ways that I can think of," he told them. "Though I must remind you that these are theories only, and pure conjecture on my part. But, I'm afraid to say, neither of you will like either of these options. One," he said, continuing on despite his reluctance. "The demon must willingly accomplish the task it set out to do: namely, kill Ranma instead of Akane."

The color drained from Akane's face at that, and Ranma's jaw tightened.

"This, however, is highly unlikely," Doctor Tofu told them. "If it wanted to complete its debt, it would have done so already. I assume that getting to come out of hiding once a lifetime in order to kill, is more than it could have ever hoped for. It knows that once it completes the task, it'll be forced once again into confinement until someone new summons him."

"And the second option?" Akane asked nervously, knowing she wasn't going to like this one any more than the last.

Doctor Tofu closed the large leather bound book and paused for a moment, looking apologetic. "The only other option I can think of, is for you to sever the one thing that is keeping the demon connected to you."

Akane heart grew heavy at that, and her chest began to ache. "You... you're talking about breaking the string."

Doctor Tofu nodded. "It's the only conceivable way I can think of," he told her sadly.

"So then," Ranma said after a moment's pause. "How do we cut it?"

"Ranma!" Akane yelled, surprised and hurt. "Do you have _any_ idea what you're saying!"

"Dummy," he shot back, "of course I do. Did you think I'd just sit back and let that bastard take you again when there's a way to stop it?"

"_You're_ the dummy! If you cut the red string then we'll never—I won't ever," she paused, having trouble forming the words. Exasperated, she shook her head. Speaking softly she said: "Our time together would end as Ranma and Akane, stupid."

"Don't care," he said stubbornly, turning away. "If I can just be with you in _this_ life, I'll be happy." Again addressing Doctor Tofu, he asked, "How do we cut it?"

"Actually, I'm not even sure if you can," Doctor Tofu told him, having the good sense to look embarrassed. "I've seen many lines that have been cut, of course, but I can't be sure how they ended up that way—some, I assume are because of death. The other way, I'm afraid, is actually more of a legend than anything, so I can't be sure if it's genuine or not."

Grabbing the same heavy tome, he quickly flipped through the pages, clearly searching for something. Then, his eyes widened and a smile lighted his face as he stopped. "Here," he said, holding the page open for all of them to see. "This is your answer."

It was a picture of a pair of scissors.

Ranma frowned, and leaned back in his chair, clearly disappointed. "That's it?" he asked, his voice flat. "Some scissors? _That's_ the big secret?"

"I—I have some scissors at home you can use," Gosunkugi offered.

Tofu smiled kindly at them, but shook his head. "These are a special kind of scissors," he explained, motioning once again to the image on the page. "These are the only scissors in existence which are said to be able to cut through the red string of fate. It's unlikely that you'd find them sitting at home someplace."

"You said this is just a legend though, right?" Akane asked, sounding uncertain. "Doesn't that mean they might not really exist?"

"Well, I've never seen them personally," he replied. "All I know is what I've read. But," he continued with more confidence, "I don't see why such a thing _shouldn't_ exist. We've certainly come across stranger things."

Akane visibly deflated at that, but Ranma looked encouraged, and for the first time, hopeful. "Maybe the old letch or the old ghoul will know where we can find 'em. They're always finding weird stuff like that!"

"There is, however, one small drawback," Doctor Tofu said slowly, haltingly. "The book mentions that to mess with fate has serious consequences, and to do so, requires a certain price—what that price is, however, the book doesn't say."

"A price?" Akane questioned. "I wonder what that means..."

"Ah, who cares," Ranma said, standing up. "It's probably something stupid anyway—'sides, we gotta worry about how to _find_ the thing first; we can worry about the rest later."

"Fate—it's very strong," Gosunkugi spoke up timidly. "I don't think it's a good idea to take such a warning lightly—" an angry glare from Ranma had him quickly shutting his mouth, and quietly retreating to a safe distance across the room once more, "—or not," he finished lamely.

"I'm afraid Gosunkugi may be correct, Ranma," Doctor Tofu said, picking up the book. "Messing with fate can be very dangerous; you may want to consider what it is you're willing to lose before pinning all of your hopes on those scissors. If the price turns out to be higher than you bargained for then you'll have no alternative when the creature finally returns."

"It's probably just our first newborn son or somethin'," Ranma replied, waving the concern away. "Truth is, we ain't _got_ no other weapon. The scissors are our last hope—so no matter the price, I'll pay it."

"Ranma..."

"Come on, Akane," he told her, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. "Maybe we'll get lucky and Happosai will have the scissors back at the Dojo. He's got so much junk, I wouldn't be surprised if they're just sitting somewhere in his room."

"Wait Ranma," Akane replied, dragging her feet. Turning to Doctor Tofu, she smiled apologetically. "Could we please have a copy of the picture, Doctor Tofu? It might help us track them down if we know exactly what it is we're looking for."

"Of course, Akane," he replied, standing up, book in hand. "I have a copier in my office. I'll be right back."

Gosunkugi, meanwhile, had been practicing being invisible. It hadn't taken him long to find a dark corner in the room in which to hide himself; though it didn't seem to be working too well. Several minute after Tofu had left, he had instantly felt their eyes on him; Saotome's, angry and accusing; Akane Tendo's, confused and hurt.

Swallowing nervously, he tried to bury himself deeper within the gloom, unprepared to face the guilt such looks incurred. Even the fact that Akane Tendo was finally paying attention to him, wasn't enough to ally his fears...

Yet, despite his worries, a part of him—the part that was still clinging to the hope that he hadn't lost yet, that he still had a chance of defeating Saotome—felt oddly encouraged as well.

"_Mistakes have a way of fixing themselves."_

His teacher used to say.

"_There are no such things as mistakes in the world of magic. _

_It is one of the things which make it so powerful and so perfect."_

He had always found that thought reassuring: but after losing Emi in every life, just like Daichi, he had been hard-pressed to believe it. But now, finally, it looked like his master may have been right after all!

Although he had made a _small_ mistake in the summoning spell—a mistake which, though minor, had proved detrimental in turning the spell on Emi rather than its intended target—it now looked like everything would work out in his favor.

If they could just find that special pair of scissors, then they could kill the demon and eliminate the thing that was connecting Emi and Daichi together once and for all.

...Then Emi would finally be _his_...

A smile crept across Gosunkugi's face, and his body shook with hushed, silent laugher; but if Ranma or Akane happened to notice, neither chose to say a word.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Come on, ya old freak, just hand 'em over already!"

Happosai jumped over Ranma's outstretched arm, easily avoiding another punch, that this time, was aimed right for his head. Akane sighed from her place on the dojo floor, quickly growing tired of the familiar scene. Honestly, she was starting to doubt he even _had_ the stupid scissors...

"Bwa-ha-ha-ha!" Happosai cackled, sticking his tongue out at his young disciple as he continued to goad him on. "You want the scissors? You have to catch me first, nya ha!"

"Consider it done!" Ranma shot back, launching himself at the old letch...

...Or, at least he _tried_ to. The place where Happosai had been standing only moments before was suddenly empty; and then Ranma felt an unwelcome weight on his head, followed by a rush of cold water cascading down his body.

Before Ranma knew what was happening, she was soaked and female.

"A peace offering," Happosai said, dangling a white lacy bra before Ranma's eyes from his comfortable perch atop her head. "Try it on: then we can leave this whole nasty business behind us."

"Die, you old freak!"

"You... you don't like my gift...?"

Akane rolled her eyes as she climbed to her feet, making her way to the "fighting" morons in the center of the room.

"Enough!" she said, hitting Happosai hard on the head.

The old goat turned to her, eyes wide with unshed tears. "Akane-chan," he sniveled, disbelieving, "you hit me."

Both teenagers watched, unmoved, as the old man's lips began to tremble.

He stood that way for several long moments: shaking pitifully as he waited for sympathy that showed no signs of coming. Finally, bored with the lack of response, his eyes once again returned to the one brassiere he held in his hand. And then, an epiphany came…

A smile came to his face, and smacking his hand in his palm at his sudden revelation, he quickly withdrew another lacy bra.

"I'm sorry, Akane-chan," he sniffled, holding the new pink bra out to her, his eyes shining with happiness. "We can't have you feeling left out. Here you go—your very own!"

Akane eyes narrowed angrily as she looked closely at the bra. "Hey!" she shouted, grabbing it from his hands. "This one _is_ mine!"

"Oops!"

Ranma's fists clenched. "Damn filthy pervert! Come back here!"

"Wa-ha-ha! Not a chance!"

Easily avoiding every attack Ranma threw his way, Happosai reached deftly into his pocket, and pulling out a handkerchief with practiced ease, tied it securely around his face. Then, jumping over the younger boy's head once again, he landed on the ground and bolted straight for the door. But not before yelling over his shoulder—which now, oddly, seemed to be supporting a large sack—"Can't be late for my raid, me boy! We'll havta finish this later!"

And just like that, the old pervert was gone. The only sign that he had been there at all, was the forgotten picture of the scissors that now lay abandoned on the floor.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"He didn't have the scissors, Ranma," Akane said, as she opened the door to her room. "If he did, he wouldn't have bothered goading you with the picture. He would've hurried to get the real thing and then waved it in front of your face."

Ranma sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said, following her into the room. "But I was so sure the old goat had it—"

"—You're such a dummy, Ranma," Akane told him, shaking her head. "Why would you pin all your hopes on _Happosai_?"

"I didn't!" he said defensively, closing the door loudly for emphasis. "Besides, there's still the Old Ghoul."

"And if Cologne _doesn't_ have it?"

Ranma went quiet for a moment, and finally shook his head. "She'll have it. Or—or at least she'll know where we can find it."

"If it even exists at all," Akane added quietly, sitting down in the chair by her desk. "Either way, it's too late to go to the Nekohanten now," she told him, cutting him off before he could protest. "Tomorrow morning we'll go and question Cologne, alright?"

...Tomorrow...

That one word brought back all the fear and doubt he'd been trying to push to the back of his mind since his memory returned. Now, he felt a sudden tightening in his chest, and his body felt cold and uncomfortable; how could he allow himself to forget something so important?

Lowering himself to the edge of her bed, he swallowed nervously as he looked at her. "Tomorrow," he said softly, his eyes on hers. "It's your birthday, Akane..."

…_We might not have more time…_

"Oh," she said, laughing uneasily, trying to sound unconcerned. "I didn't realize it was so soon." An awkward silence settled between them, something which had become more and more frequent within the last few days. Finally, shifting uncomfortably in her chair, Akane frowned. "Can we… let's not think about that, okay?" she said, turning to gaze out the window.

Ranma noticed it immediately: the way her hands shook ever-so-slightly, tightly clasped in her lap. And the way her eyes were focused intently on the window, feigning an interest in something only she could see.

And he was about to open his mouth to say something—_anything_ that would get her to smile for him—when the soft sound of her voice cut him off.

"I love you, Ranma."

Slowly, she turned to look at him, and he could see the tears slowly gathering in her eyes. Everything that had happened that day—all the doubts, the insecurities, the fears—everything came rushing back, more powerful, more painful.

She was sitting there, on the very edge of her chair.

…But not for long.

Taking her hand in his, he quietly pulled her over to the bed. And not saying a word, gently pressed his lips against hers—saying everything he was feeling, thinking, in the only language the two of them could ever seem to understand.

Actions speak louder than words: that definitely rang true for the two of them.

He only pulled away for a second—only paused for a moment to reaffirm what she already knew—but what she needed to hear once more.

"I love you, Akane."

For awhile, they were able to forget about the demon and forget about Gosunkugi… for one night, at least… everything was _perfect_.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Why you have picture of Great Grandmother scissors, Ranma?"

Ranma and Akane froze where they were; neither one believing what they'd just heard.

Ranma was lying on the ground, courtesy of Shampoo's bike, while the purple-haired Amazon sat beside him, staring curiously at the piece of paper held in her hands.

Akane was the first to recover, and moving towards them, stepped away from the fence. Bending down, she looked at Shampoo closely, almost afraid to hope. "You… you've _seen_ these scissors, Shampoo?" she asked.

"Shampoo no lie," the Amazon answered matter-of-factly. "Great Grandmother keep in box. Very, very dangerous. Shampoo no allowed to touch."

"And you're sure they're the same ones," Ranma asked, sitting up quickly as he turned Shampoo around so she was facing him. "Think carefully, Shampoo," he told her, his voice desperate. "_Please_."

Looking confused, but intrigued nonetheless, she nodded. "Shampoo know because of jewels," she explained, pointing to the same place on the page Doctor Tofu had shown them yesterday. "Very pretty, but great-grandmother say they special, so no can use. Why Ranma so curious?" she asked.

Standing up, looking excited, Ranma took her hands in his. "Could you take me to it, Shampoo?" he asked, his expression serious but eager. "It's very _very_ important that we find those scissors."

Shampoo, hesitant to turn down a request from her husband, slowly nodded. "Shampoo can take, but Great-grandmother no like you touch scissors. Ranma only look, yes? To take scissors too dangerous."

"Sure," Ranma said, nodding his head quickly. "I'll just take a quick peek—just to see if they're the ones we're lookin' for. That's okay, right?"

Shampoo nodded, all smiles again. And latching onto his arm, quickly steered him in the direction of the Nekohanten, giggling happily as they walked.

Akane, meanwhile, stood off to the side, not saying a word. Ever since the shift in conversation she felt uneasy, all of her earlier fears having suddenly returned. Deep down, she secretly hoped that Shampoo was wrong—that this was some sort of mistake, or at most, a trick. After all, it seemed almost _too_ good to be true.

Trying to clear her mind of such thoughts, Akane quietly followed behind. Yet the closer they came to their destination, the more persistent the whispers became; something kept telling her that if they actually _did_ find the scissors, the price wouldn't be worth it...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The box was kept on a dusty old shelf in the back of the Nekohanten, amongst a clutter of other strange misshapen artifacts and potions. It was rectangular and plain, and a giant rusty padlock was its only decoration; though Ranma highly doubted something like _that_ would prevent anyone from opening it if they were truly determined.

…And _he_ was determined.

When Ranma found himself standing in front of the box, he couldn't concentrate on anything else. The answer to his problems could be sitting right there in front of him... and the desire to just take the box and run was almost overpowering. But first, he had to know that what he was looking for was really in that box.

Without a word, Shampoo picked the box up off the shelf, and pushing firmly against its sides, snapped the padlock open. Smiling with satisfaction she lifted the lid, while Ranma peered intently over her shoulder.

There, lying inside the plain old box, was a pair of scissors just like the ones in the picture.

"Is same scissors, yes?" Shampoo whispered, glancing over at Ranma.

He barely managed to nod; his eyes were glued to the simple cutters, the jewels still perfectly in tact, and the two crossed blades still sharp. They looked brand new, almost like they'd never been used—a striking contrast to the plain ugly box they'd been stored in.

"Ranma..."

Feeling his fiancée pulling gently on his sleeve, he moved quietly to the side, allowing enough room for Akane to step closer. He watched her carefully as her eyes scanned the contents of the box, watched her face as she took it all in: her surprise, her resignation, her fear...

"These—they're the same, aren't they?" she asked, her eyes riveted to the box. "But—but _how_?" she asked, turning now to look at Shampoo, her eyes becoming almost accusing. "Why do _you_ have them?"

Ranma's gaze unconsciously returned to the box. He didn't care why she had them—all he cared about was that she _did—_that their search was over. Everything would be fine now. Now he could protect Akane. Now he could finally keep his promise to her...

...Almost without realizing it, he began to reach for the scissors...

...Only to have them disappear right before his eyes in a blur of motion.

"Not so fast, son-in-law."

Startled, he turned towards the voice, only to see Cologne standing before him, balancing atop her cane. She held the box in her mangled old hand, the lid once again closed tightly, the padlock once again, strangely in place.

"Shampoo," she said firmly, with a note of reproach, "have I not warned you about this box?"

The Amazon stood tall before her great-grandmother, not showing the least bit of intimidation or of fear. "Shampoo help husband," she replied defiantly, clinging tightly to Ranma's arm. "Ranma ask see scissors—he promise no touch."

With slow precise movements, Ranma carefully removed the young girl's hand from off his arm, his jaw set, his eyes serious. "Sorry Shampoo," he told her, his attention now focused solely on Cologne, "but I'm not gotta be able to keep that promise." He cracked his knuckles, prepared for battle. "I need those scissors, Old Ghoul," he said.

"Ranma!" Akane protested, taking a step forward. "This isn't the way to do it. I'm sure if we just ask—if we explain—"

Ranma shook his head, cutting her off. "She's not gonna just give 'em to us, Akane," he told her, his gaze unwavering. "She's an Amazon—obstacles are for killing, remember? Shampoo wouldn't miss an opportunity to eliminate you, so what makes you think the old ghoul would think any differently?"

Cologne seemed indifferent to their argument, her attention focused elsewhere. "Your auras," she said at last, her voice filled with surprise and concern. "They've become unbalanced... intertwined, somehow. Just what is going on here? And how did you come to learn of these scissors?"

"Doctor Tofu—"

"That's not important," Ranma interrupted. "Just give them to me."

"No matter what the problem, son-in-law, I'd advise you to think of another way. These scissors are not the answer."

"…so there _is_ a price," Akane whispered to herself. Turning to Ranma, she grabbed his arm, trying in vain to get his attention. "Ranma, please, let's just forget it, okay? If Cologne doesn't want you to use them, then... then _please_..."

Finally, he allowed himself to look again at his fiancée. She was shaking as if cold, and her eyes were slowly filling with tears.

"Akane..." Just as easily as his body had slipped into an attack position, it slipped out…

"Please... can we just go home..." she pleaded.

Ranma spared one last look at the scissors—the one chance he had been wishing for—and then, turning back to his fiancée, took her hand in his. Without a backward glance, he led her out the back room, avoiding the questioning looks of Shampoo and Cologne as they exited the Nekohanten.

Shampoo, meanwhile, was baffled.

"Great-grandmother," she said, her voice slow and controlled. "Shampoo miss something, yes? When Akane and husband get so close? And why husband want scissors?"

Cologne's eyes were fixed to the door they had left through, her expression unreadable. Then, pushing the precious box into Shampoo's hands, she moved towards the door.

"Guard that box, Shampoo," she ordered, her eyes fierce. "Son-in-law will be back for it. And if I'm right about this, it may be the key to winning your husband once and for all."

"Is true?" Shampoo asked happily. "Finally, husband be Shampoo's?"

Her great grandmother nodded solemnly. "But first I must speak with Tofu," she said, turning again to the door. "From what the Tendo girl said, it seems he knows something that could prove most useful."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"We have until midnight," Ranma told her, pacing the length of the dojo's floor, his expression one of intense concentration. "That should give us enough time to sneak in and get the scissors."

Akane looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "Enough time?" she asked incredulously. "Ranma, she's not going to just hand them over!"

"I know," he replied simply, determinedly. "That's why I plan to take 'em."

It took all of Akane's willpower not to hit him over the head with something heavy. Honestly! After all their dealings with Cologne, you'd think he would've realized by now that simply "taking something_" _wasn't really an option. Had he already forgotten how long it had taken him just to get the phoenix pill…? And now, he planned to just waltz in and take some scissors she'd been secretly guarding!

Had he lost his mind!

"No, I'm not crazy," came Ranma's unamused voice. "Geez, Akane, give me some credit. I'm not an idiot, you know. It ain't like I haven't thought this through."

Akane, startled that he could read her so easily, shifted uncomfortably where she sat. "Well, there's got to be some other way," she told him stubbornly. "It can't be that easy! If these scissors have always been here, then why has it taken us this long to find them? Wouldn't we have discovered them earlier, in one of our other lives or something?"

"I don't know," Ranma sighed. "This is the first time I've ever heard of this red-string-theory-thing, so I don't know if we woulda even _had_ reason to look for the scissors before. But if there's even a _chance_ they'll work," he went on quietly, firmly, "then I gotta try it."

"What if I don't want you to?"

Ranma stopped pacing to look at her, his expression pained and confused. "Akane..."

"This is nice," she said quickly, avoiding his eyes. "I have all these memories of you, of _us_—and no, I don't want to die—but just the thought of losing all these memories, of never getting to see you again..." she trailed off, her voice sounding small as she buried her head in her arms. "I don't know," she continued, "I'm just so confused. And frustrated. And mad."

"Dummy," said Ranma, kneeling beside her. "And you think I'm not?" Slowly, Akane lifted her head to look up at him, her eyes focused on his.

"Without those scissors I don't know what else I can do. Hell, I don't even know if those scissors will even _do_ anything! But if there's—if there's even a _chance _it'll work—a _small_ chance, then I'm gonna take it. 'Sides," he continued softly, in teasing tones. "You never listened to me in the past, so I'm just paying you back for all those times you made me worry."

Akane, pretending to be angry, buried her face once more in her arms, refusing to look at him.

Ranma's expression changed just as suddenly. "Ahh, no. Aww, geez, I didn't mean it, Akane," he told her, apologizing over and over again. "Don't be mad, okay? Please?"

Once he'd moved closer, Akane looked up at him through her dark bangs, and before he had time to react, pushed him backwards with a jab of her finger to his forehead, catching him off guard. She watched as his hands began wind-milling wildly in the air, fighting a losing battle to keep his body balanced and upright. Finally, gravity won out, and he fell over backwards, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

"Hey, no fair!" Ranma whined from his spot on the floor.

"Dummy," Akane teased, laughing. Standing up, she stretched, and her expression once again became serious as she turned to look over her shoulder at Ranma.

"But you're right," she continued softly. "If things were different—if you were in my place, and our situations were reversed—I'd do the same. So," she began nervously, "about that plan you mentioned..."

A slow smile spread across Ranma's face, as he jumped easily to his feet. "I don't need a plan," he told her. "I've mastered the umisen-ken, remember?"

Rolling her eyes, Akane put a hand to her forehead in exasperation. "How foolish of me to forget," she said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ranma moved within the darkness, allowing the shadows to envelope him completely, to mask his very presence. It was exhilarating in a way: finally finding a real purpose for this technique—not the selfish intents for which it had been created.

He could see the Nekohanten now, the lights were still on even though the sign on the door read 'CLOSED'. Strengthening his concentration, Ranma moved easily through the large dining area, maneuvering himself towards the room where the scissors should be.

...Only to find they weren't there.

He couldn't exactly say he was surprised. It wouldn't be like Cologne to leave them unguarded when she knew he might be back for them. Which left two other options: she'd hid them in a new place, or she'd left them in the care of Shampoo, Mousse, or herself.

It didn't take him long to rule out Mousse as a suspect. The myopic boy was lying in a small locked cage, as a duck, fast asleep. Next, he chose to check Shampoo—the lesser of two evils, as it were. He made his way quickly to her room, his very presence erased as he moved invisibly through the restaurant.

Her door was open, and he could see her lying on her bed, the box she'd shown them earlier, resting unguarded in her hands.

Ranma couldn't believe his good luck!

The old ghoul must be slipping, he thought.

Revealing himself in such a situation was probably not the best course of action, he decided. So quietly, carefully, he slipped inside her room. Deep within the umisen-ken, he crept to her bed. It _looked_ like she was sleeping but there was no way he could be sure; it was still early after all, and he hadn't for a second ruled out the possibility that this could all be some sort of trap.

He was just glad they'd never learned of this technique—that he'd never had occasion to use it after his fight with Ryo. This would be the last thing they'd be expecting…

Ranma closed himself off to everything around him—concentrated all his energy on this one task, on everything he'd ever learned. And slowly, carefully, he reached out a hand… and in one fluid motion, took the box right out of her fingers.

...It was so easy...

Shampoo's eyes suddenly widened in surprise, and quickly, panicking, she sat up—staring at the place the box had been only moments before.

But Ranma didn't stay to see any more than that. He ran and he ran, until he had left the Nekohanten behind completely...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In their memories, it always happened at night. And now, it was eleven o'clock, their appointed time.

Ranma and Akane stood waiting, the tension in the air was almost palpable—doing nothing to ease their fears. As they waited for Gosunkugi to appear, their senses pushed to their limits, for a moment they thought they heard something... something _strange_... fast approaching. It began as an indistinguishable sound: a clanging of sorts, sharp and piercing.

Ranma stepped instinctively in front of Akane, taking up a defensive stance.

His eyes were glued on the road, his attention focused on the bend beyond the fence, where his vision couldn't reach...

...And from there, Gosunkugi emerged, running towards them.

Ranma didn't bother to relax his stance, not trusting the voodoo-loving-boy any more than the demon he'd stupidly summoned. Though looking at him now, it was hard to reconcile the past Gosunkugi with the present one... the closer he came, the more Ranma noticed the strange way in which he walked: his movements were awkward and strained, and he appeared to be swaying unsteadily from side to side.

It didn't take Ranma long to recognize the _true_ source of the sound they'd been hearing...

Strapped securely around Gosunkugi's chest was a band of scissors—several bandoliers full, in fact—each blade carefully protected by a cork firmly placed in the sharpened points.

Before leaving, he had told them he'd do his best to find the scissors—and from the look of things, he'd done that and _more_. If Ranma had to guess, he'd say the other boy had simply grabbed every pair of scissors he'd come across in a mad attempt to help.

Again, almost unconsciously, he found himself silently cursing the other boy. Never in all his life, had he wished so desperately for someone to be adept at the arts. He wanted to fight him—_needed_ to hurt him, just like he'd hurt _them_.

Yet somehow, Ranma found the power to hold his anger in check.

"You almost gave me a heart-attack, Gosunkugi," he complained when the other boy had finally drawn closer.

Breathing heavily, Gosunkugi removed the first band of scissors from off his chest. "Sorry," he replied sheepishly, afraid to meet Ranma's gaze. He quickly laid his burden on the ground before them, and backing away, frowned. "I'm afraid I couldn't find the scissors from the picture, but maybe one of these pairs will do."

Ranma was about to open his mouth to gloat, but Akane beat him to it.

"Thanks Gosunkugi," she said, bending over to examine the small collection of piled scissors. "But actually Ranma and I already found the ones we needed." Holding out the box for him to see, she lifted the lid to show him the special contents.

Gosunkugi's face lit up at the sight, and he smiled brightly. His eyes were glued on the answer to all his prayers—the one thing that could finally separate Akane from Ranma forever. "I'd love to do the honors," he told them, reaching timidly for the scissors.

Akane quickly shut the lid and stepped away. "These are a last resort—that's all. We may not even need them," she told him.

Ranma frowned at her words. In his heart, he _knew_ they'd need them. "You ready?" he asked her, his voice soft. It was the only thing he could do to keep his voice from shaking, to hide the fear and nervousness he was feeling at that moment.

This was his last chance.

He couldn't allow himself to fail.

Akane nodded, and somehow found the strength to smile.

Both of them knew the creature would be appearing soon; they could feel it. But for now, all they could do was wait.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ranma had no idea what to expect when the demon finally arrived. Even in his memories the details were sketchy—and he almost always came too late. So when he heard Akane suddenly cry out in pain and fall to her knees, to say he was slightly panicked was an understatement. He barely had time to register what was happening before he found himself kneeling beside her, asking what was wrong.

Her eyes were clenched tightly in pain, and her hands were wrapped tightly around her stomach. "I'm okay," she told him, though her voice was unsteady and clearly shaken.

Turning quickly to Gosunkugi, his eyes wild, Ranma demanded, "What's happening to her? It ain't even here yet!"

Gosunkugi, looking just as confused and lost as Ranma, helplessly shook his head. He began to take a step towards Akane, but nervous and afraid, stepped back, seeing the protective look in Ranma's eyes. "I—I don't know," he replied uselessly. "I—this—I don't remember anything like _this_."

Ranma turned back towards Akane, feeling angry and frustrated. What was going on? She wasn't glowing—and there were no signs of the demon anywhere _near_ them—and this… how was he supposed to fight _this_?

Almost unconsciously, his hands began to inch closer to the scissors… until his hands actually rested against the box itself.

Akane noticed the movement almost immediately. "Ranma, no," she told him, her voice hard. "Not yet. A last resort. Remember?" Lifting her head, she tried to smile reassuringly for him. "I'm okay," she added, though pain was still written clearly across her face. "I just feel a little winded is all."

Ranma, his grip on the box loosening minimally, looked unconvinced.

Akane, noticing this, looked rather annoyed. "Really," she said again, the smile quickly fading to be replaced by an angry scowl. "I'm fine, Ranma." As if to prove her point, she climbed slowly to her feet.

It looked to him like it was sheer force of will that was keeping her standing. He would have told her so too, would have called her bluff—if he hadn't noticed the dark shadow forming out of the corner of his eye.

Not wasting a moment, Ranma immediately resumed his protective stance in front of Akane, his heart racing. The creature… it had finally appeared.

It was everything he remembered… and yet, in a way, it _wasn't_.

It was dark and menacing, and it still radiated hatred and death. And evil.

But it looked _weaker_ somehow, more devoid of color; its shadow more translucent. He was looking at a wisp of fog or smoke—not the dark cloud of angry, dark energy he'd been expecting.

But that didn't mean he intended to let his guard down.

This was his last chance. He had no intention of failing.

Cupping his hands in front of his body, Ranma summoned all of his confidence, all of his strength—and with a cry of "Moko Takabisha" released the ball of energy directly at his target without warning.

Again, like so many attacks from the past, it flew harmlessly through the gray shadow—the gray shadow that was slowly growing larger, growing darker—and which appeared to be heading straight towards his fiancée.

Silently, Ranma cursed.

It really _was_ smoke! It hadn't reacted to the attack at all!

…One more try, he told himself.

He needed to be stronger; for the chi to be _bigger_. Ranma closed his eyes, allowing his mind to think of the scissors—their one secret weapon—the one thing that could end this nightmare once and for all. He concentrated all of his energy on that thought alone; drawing what confidence and power he could from it. Then, focusing that energy into his palms, he opened his eyes and sent it flying.

It was the largest chi attack he'd ever thrown...

And it passed harmlessly through the creature, just like the last.

Ranma, already feeling the strain of drawing so much energy, fell to his knees.

…It hadn't worked…

It. Really. Hadn't. Worked.

He lowered his head, his fists clawing painfully at the dirt. Had he been fooling himself all along then…? Tricking himself into believing he could actually beat it with strength alone?

Was it true…?

No matter how many attacks he used—how many techniques he'd learned—now, when he needed them most, none of them would be of any use? It was almost too much to bear: after ten long years of devoting himself to the art, _this _was all he had to show for it?

There was no way in hell he was lettin' it end like this.

Slowly, Ranma lifted his head, once again surveying the creature before him. His eyes searched desperately for a weakness—something, anything.

It was darker now—much darker than before—nearly solid. And beneath the shady recesses of the creature's face, he could almost discern the makings of a smile. It easily floated several feet off the ground; a dark, angry mass. But of what, Ranma could only imagine...

This was the creature. _This_ was how he remembered it.

He could hear its voice in his head, even now—hear the sound of it as it spoke through Gosunkugi, mocking him.

Almost unconsciously his eyes drifted to the small box at his feet.

He'd known all along... hadn't he? Known the battle would eventually come down to this.

And looking at Akane now, pale and afraid, her face superimposed over all the different variations of her from their past... Ranma couldn't stand to see her like that again. To watch helplessly as the light left her eyes—while she breathed her last breath.

He _wouldn't_ let it happen.

The memory of a million promises steeled his nerves—reminding him of a vow he had never meant to break. He'd failed her in so many ways, so many times. He refused to let it happen again.

...Without hesitation, his hand reached for the scissors…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gosunkugi didn't know what to do.

Akane—beautiful, perfect Akane—was getting paler by the second, while Saotome—stupid, _stupid_, useless Saotome—continued firing off ineffective attacks. Oh, if only Emi had chosen him. None of this would have happened if she hadn't fallen under the spell of that evil, womanizing Daichi.

This was all Saotome's fault!

_Stupid Saotome! Stupid Saotome! Stupid Saotome!_

He... he had to do _something_. He couldn't keep standing there while Saotome wasted what little time they had left.

Although he'd always been unable to help her in the past, now, he felt a renewed hope. As if all of his life—his _destiny_—had been leading to this very moment.

With eyes narrowed, he turned to look at the solution to all his problems.

...A small, elongated box lying beside his enemy...

Smiling, he adjusted the candles that were tied securely around his head, relieved he was, and thankful too, that he'd found the hiding place where his parents had stashed it.

Working at his grandfather's shrine, had obviously done no good. At least with voodoo, he _knew_ he could get results! He was staring at the proof right now!

Boring his eyes into those of his foe, he began to chant lightly under his breath, emptying his mind of everything but that one prevailing thought:

_Pick up the scissors! Pick up the scissors! Pick up the scissors!_

He could picture Saotome in his mind perfectly—see him clearly now, even when he closed his eyes. And with all the strength and conviction he could muster, he screamed aloud:

"PICK THEM UP!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She could see everything—hear everything—and yet, she couldn't get her body to **_move_**. There was a heavy weight pressing against her, holding her in place, keeping her weak, draining her.

And she heard Gosunkugi scream…

Saw Ranma as his hands reached for the box…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The scissors felt warm and comfortable in his hands—for once, he felt confident and _strong_. He could hear nothing else; think of nothing else. All of his senses were focused on the object he held in his hands. And the closer he came to the shadowy creature, the more clearly he could see a faint light glinting off the blades of the scissors; a spark.

There was a low buzzing in his ears almost instantly—a sound which grew stronger each time the string was in sight.

Ignoring it, he moved forward, desperately searching. Then, finally, he saw it: the thin, semi-veiled red thread was gleaming off the blades of the scissors.

The buzzing in his ears became almost deafening.

The creature, unafraid, remained on its set course towards Akane—Akane, who was now lying on the ground, still and unmoving, her eyes closed.

…He had to do it now…

Steadying his hands as best he could, Ranma moved the blades closer to where he'd seen the thread moments before; though he could barely concentrate over the noise in his head.

The string, now, was solid.

He blocked out the sound as best he could, his mind focusing on the solid line before him. It was red, just like the legend said, and he could see the point where it connected himself to Akane. For a moment—a second, really—he found himself hesitating.

The weight of it—of what he was about to do—finally, it hit him.

…Cutting the string, meant cutting himself off from Akane forever…

He looked over at his fiancée; to the girl he'd fallen in love with over and over again. Even when he'd tried to steel himself against her—tried to push her out of his mind—something would always draw him to her again. But was it only because of the string…?

Silently, he cursed himself. He didn't have _time_ for this!

…The creature was almost there…

Afraid he'd lose his nerve, he shut his mind of everything else; everything that wasn't the red string before him. Quickly, not giving himself time to pause, he closed the blades against the thread, severing the connection once and for all.

It was over. He'd really done it.

…The red string of fate had been cut…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sound of the creature screaming echoed throughout the park, and Gosunkugi watched as Ranma Saotome collapsed behind it, not moving.

For a moment, the demon lay suspended; frozen in the air. Then, a strange dark light surrounded it completely, and seconds later, the light and the creature both appeared to implode upon themselves, disappearing altogether.

Gosunkugi stood frozen to the spot; too afraid to hope. He kept waiting for the demon to reappear, for a shadow to form again above Akane's unmoving body.

He waited… but no demon appeared.

And then a miracle occurred: Akane Tendo _moved_!

Smiling happily, he ran to his true love, relieved to see she was alive and well.

He had done it!

Everything had gone _perfectly_.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ranma wasn't exactly sure what had happened—or where he was for that matter. One minute he was lying on the ground in the park, watching as the creature disappeared right before his eyes—then, next thing he knew, he found himself engulfed by a strange, blinding white light. It had startled him and forced him to close his eyes…

And when he'd opened them, he was no longer in the park.

A string of images began to play right before his eyes, filling the darkness...

_Of him, kissing Akane. _

_Of holding her, touching her, whispering her name. _

_He could still hear her moans, her cries muffled  
against his chestas he held her closer, tighter—with a  
desperate need they'd both felt. _

_And when it was over, they had laid there,  
still wrapped in each other's arms… wishing  
the night would never end._

Ranma smiled at the memory—his body felt warm as he relived that night—a moment which had instantly engraved itself into his mind.

The memory, however, couldn't last. Soon, he was greeted by a different image; an unfamiliar scene which made his entire body go cold...

_Akane was sitting on the ground, cradling his  
body in her arms, crying uncontrollably. _

_He wasn't moving._

I'm dead, Ranma though dazedly. He knew it with a certainty that was very _very_ frightening. The scissors were lying forgotten behind him, and it didn't take him long to realize that they were still in the park; the setting of their final battle.

...For **his** final battle.

But Akane was fine, a part of his mind pointed out. That's the important thing. Akane. She's alive. He'd won.

Slowly, the picture began to fade away to be replaced by another. This one just as unfamiliar as the last...

_A small child ran around the yard of the Tendo's, laughing  
and smiling as he threw punches in the air against an  
invisible opponent. His hair was black and tied into a tight ponytail  
at the nape of his neck—but it was  
the eyes that caught Ranma's attention first. _

_A dark shade of brown… _

_There was determination in those eyes; he could see it clearly as the  
child paused for a moment, trying to execute the perfect punch. And then his  
lips turned into a stubborn pout, and his eyes became angry when  
he over-extended his arm, missing his imaginary mark._

They were Akane's eyes, he knew...

_And then Akane herself entered the yard—Ranma noticed instantly  
that something about her had changed. Her hair had grown longer, and  
she looked peaceful... older, but still just as beautiful. She  
smiled as the small boy ran to her, throwing  
his arms around her neck; and laughing, she hugged him back._

It was her child. Ranma had known it the moment she had entered the yard, maybe even before—when he'd noticed the eyes. Instantly, he felt a knot of something deep within: Jealousy? Regret? Sadness?

It took him by surprise, and he pushed it back down forcefully, angry with himself over his own weakness. At least she was happy. She _deserved_ to be happy.

But the vision didn't stop there...

_Akane and the child entered a cemetery. They were both  
dressed in black, and looked decidedly unhappy. Stopping  
at a small monument, they carefully poured water  
over the stone, bowing their respect to the person beneath. _

Ranma stiffened for a moment. The name on the stone was his own...

_Wiping away tears, Akane touched the gravestone lovingly with  
her hand. The small boy, inexperienced, mimicked his mother's movement,  
pressing his own against the stone as well. And through  
the tears, Akane smiled along with him._

"_Say hi to your daddy, Shinji," she told him._

_Bowing politely to the stone, the child obeyed.  
"Hello, daddy," he said._

Ranma's heart sped up at that; surprised and shocked. Now, it all made sense: what he had seen and why. _Their_ child. Shinji.

Too soon, the image faded away and Ranma was left with nothing but a passing glimpse of his son, of the child he wouldn't be there to raise, or to see growing up.

But he was real. And Akane wouldn't be alone.

For the first time… Ranma allowed himself to smile.

It wasn't long before the light began to disappear all together; but not before one last image managed to flash quickly before his eyes before the darkness took over:

_...Of a girl, wearing a torn wedding kimono, running towards him..._

Then the light was gone completely.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Slowly, painfully, Ranma opened his eyes.

He was disoriented and confused at first—and his entire body felt like it was on fire. But Akane was there. She was staring down at him, her eyes red from crying, her cheeks wet. Gosunkugi was standing off to the side, looking cheerful; all smiles.

Ranma ignored him, his mind filled with things he'd seen within the light.

His death, true. But there had also been life.

Life, in the form of their child…

He couldn't even say he was exactly surprised. A part of him had known all along what the price would be—what using the scissors _really_ meant. And he was sure that on some level Akane must have known too.

But he didn't regret it. He'd never regret it.

...He'd always been willing to die for her...

And now, here she was, finally safe. His eyes drifted to her stomach where their child had secretly begun to grow.

To wait.

His vision was growing bleary from the pain, but he kept his eyes open—determined to hold on as long as he could. Slowly, he lifted his hand, running his fingers over her stomach.

His son.

Akane gently took his hand in hers, and forced a smile. "You—don't worry—you'll be fine. Doctor Tofu's on his way and… and, he can do anything, right? You. You're strong, Ranma. You won't lose to something—to something like this."

The words were meant to be encouraging… but her hand was shaking as she held him, and she couldn't stop herself from crying intermittently as she spoke.

Ranma, wiping away her tears, frowned. "Aww, jeez—don't cry, Akane. Ya know how I hate it when you cry."

She shook her head forcefully, the sobs making her voice sound strained and miserable. "I—I can't help it stupid. I'm not—I'm not crying because I _want_ to."

Somehow, he managed to keep a smile on his face, even despite the pain. "Dummy. There's nothin' to be sad about."

Akane narrowed her eyes at him, her expression hard and disbelieving. "You—how can I _not_ look upset?" she demanded. "You're _dying_."

His voice was firm. "Everything's gonna be fine," he insisted.

She looked at him through her tears, confused and still upset. "How can you say that?" she demanded quietly. "What if I never see you again? What if—what if this is the last time—" she didn't finish the thought. She paused, her hands tightly clasped in her lap, her bottom lip quivering. "I want you in _this_ life, Ranma," she told him, shaking her head. "I want _you_. My stupid, perverted fiancée who turns into a girl."

He sighed painfully. "…Akane."

She lifted her head, her eyes pleading. "Please, Ranma. Don't let him win again—don't let him separate us."

"This life… it's just temporary, Akane. There'll be more."

She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly against the tears. "But I don't... I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." he told her softly. "I've found you in every other life. Do you really think I won't be able to find you in the next?"

"If you don't, I'll never forgive you," she told him.

Ranma, though it was painful, laughed. "So stubborn…" he told her, his voice trailing off. Before he realized it, his eyes were drifting closed—the pain was quickly becoming unbearable. "I'm so tired, 'kane. Just gonna shut my eyes. Just for a minute…"

"Ranma…"

He could only faintly hear her voice now; it sounded far away, so distant. Again, he pictured their son in his mind, saw him practicing a carefully executed kata; and he could see Akane, smiling as she watched him…

…They'd be fine…

The pain was becoming less, now… he could barely feel a thing…

Briefly he thought of his mother—of the woman he barely had the chance to get to know—and of his old man, the one who'd raised him alone for the last ten years.

He saw Ukyo… Shampoo… Ryouga…

There were others—he knew there were others—but for some reason, he couldn't recall their faces. Not even their names…

…Then, he stopped thinking of anything at all …

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Ranma," Akane whispered brokenly, holding him tighter. "You dummy."

She could only watch, helpless, as her fiancée passed away in her arms.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Authors Notes 

((Thanks so much to my friend Anna Novastar, for going over this and editing it for me!))

Wow. I am truly sorry. I had no idea this chapter would be such a nightmare to write, and never anticipated that it would take me **this** long to finish! I'm not satisfied with it at all—but it's done, and that's all I care about it. Hopefully, _someone_ out there is still interested in it. If not, oh well, I can't blame you. ;)

And I know... you're probably hating me right now. I killed Ranma. I'm evil, I have no heart.

Hopefully the Epilogue will make you feel better. It's actually finished right now and Anna's proof-reading it for me. I'll probably post it at the end of the week.

As always, thanks for reading!

-Angela Jewell


	4. Epilogue

_08-25-06_  
Added some information in the Authors Notes to clear up some questions.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ranma 1/2 is the property and creation of Rumiko Takahashi and whoever else owns it. I'm not making any money off this so don't sue me. Besides, I'm in college which means I'm broke.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
She Walks in Beauty  
Epilogue  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

…Eons Later…

Her white wedding kimono was covered in dirt and mud, and parts of it appeared to be missing. Even so, he could tell it had been beautiful once; though she apparently didn't care. She darted quickly behind the nearest haystack, and grabbing the silken veil from off her head, proceeded to stuff it angrily between the straw.

He set the cart down easily, watching with undisguised interest. The girl, at the moment, seemed oblivious to him, and again he found himself wondering if she even knew he was there. Though really, how could she not? They were in a huge hilly field, in the middle of nowhere—with five large haystacks the area's only decoration, _and_ he was hauling an old, rickety cart, housing several loud squawking chickens.

He could be a damn good hider when he wanted to be, don't get him wrong… but the situation didn't exactly boast "_discreet_".

Besides… it wasn't everyday he saw a girl who was being chased. Even now, he could feel her pursuers drawing closer—the ground shook the slightest bit beneath his feet, and the air was charged with tension. It must have been a small army at least.

And she must have known.

From where he was standing, it looked as if she'd plastered herself against the haystack. Every few seconds she would peek around the corner and look over the hill in the direction she had come. She obviously didn't like whatever she saw—a couple times, she even went so far as to punch the bale of hay with her fist.

Well, he decided, one thing was for sure: she _had_ to find a better place to hide. They'd find her there for sure—and the last thing he wanted was to have to fight an entire army.

_He was on a schedule, dammit._

Nodding resolutely, he lifted the heavy front of the cart—though to him, the weight felt like nothing—and made his way towards the girl. Without fail, the wobbly old cart's wheels began to groan and screech the moment he moved—and hearing the sound, she quickly turned to look at him.

From what he could tell, she looked more annoyed than surprised by the unexpected interruption. He was encouraged by that.

Dropping the load of the cart, he smiled in greeting. Unimpressed, she looked away, turning her attention back to the hill.

"Hey," he said, undaunted. "Whatcha doin'?"

The girl didn't bother turning around. "Hiding, you moron," she whispered.  
"Isn't that obvious?"

Stepping up behind her, he peered around the haystack, just like she was doing. "You know… this ain't the best place to hide. They'll see you for sure."

She turned to glare at him, her brown eyes narrowed in annoyance. Though her long dark hair was tied up, strands still hung in her eyes, loosened by the veil. "I suppose you have a better idea then," she answered testily. "Perhaps climbing _inside_ the bale—or maybe on top?"

The boy smiled. "Well, you _could_," he replied lightly. "But it'd probably be easier just to hide in my cart. If you don't mind the chickens and the hay, that is." Again his eyes took in the state of her dress: he doubted it would be much of a problem.

She looked towards the direction of the large handcart, biting her lip. "You're sure it's okay?" she asked, turning again to look at him. He was surprised to see that all of her earlier hostility had seemed to vanish, and he nodded mutely. "You won't tell them where I am or anything?" she continued, _almost_ pleading.

The boy quickly shook his head. "Of course not," he said, as if insulted by the mere suggestion. "I'm a martial artist. It's my _job_ to protect the weak and helpless."

The girl's eyes lit up with excitement when he mentioned he was a martial artist, but then she frowned, and seemed to grow angry again. "Hey, I'm not weak and helpless!" she complained. The sound of horses fast approaching froze her in her tracks, and she cursed under her breath. "Ooh, I don't have time for this," she muttered. "Thanks for the help! I'll take it!" Without another word she ran towards his cart, and ignoring the squawking of the chickens, started burying herself beneath the hay. The boy approached and began to move bits and pieces around, making sure she was well hidden.

Then, maneuvering himself back in front of the large overhanging handle, he began to move forward, headed in the direction the horses were coming. He knew from experience that if you wanted to avoid suspicion, you needed to go towards trouble, rather than away from it. At least he'd managed to pick up _something_ useful from his stupid old man…

Tearing his thoughts away from his pop, he continued forward, surprised to see the faint outline of twenty or more horses coming right towards him.

Wow, he thought, impressed. What in the world could she have done to have an _army_ after her?

Still… it was _nothing_ compared to the odds he'd been up against before.

Feigning surprise at the approaching men, he stopped and allowed them to draw closer. Then, using a hand to shield his eyes from the resulting glare of their amour, he watched, unafraid, as they finally reached him. They were obviously some type of royalty, and the money from their shields and armor alone could feed him and his old man for years.

Good thing his pop wasn't there… the last thing they needed were _more_ people after them.

The man who was obviously leading the group, was wearing a gold helmet and sat stiffly on his horse. Lifting a hand in the air he motioned for his men to stop, and then, removing the helmet, eyed the boy and his cart distastefully.

"I pray thee," he began, in strange, lilting tones. "Has thou seen a raven-haired beauty wandering these desolate parts?" Before the boy could even open his mouth to reply, the man had continued on. "I thought not," he replied in a haughty manner, running a hand through his short dark hair. "My beloved would never allow a base man such as you, to set thy unworthy eyes upon her."

Turning promptly away, he put his helmet back on. "Come, men," he ordered, pointing towards the hills beyond. "Though my wedding day hath been delayed but a short while, think of the joy my love will know at the end of this merry chase. Onwards we go!"

Too surprised to speak, the pig-tailed boy could only watch in surprise as the strange man and his procession rode away. When he was sure they were out of sight, he approached the back of his cart, shooing away the chickens that had begun to peck at the hay and the person hiding within. "They're gone," he said, leaning against the wooden siding.

The girl slowly poked her head out of the hay, still cautious. Her hair, somehow, had come undone during the short ride. Now, pieces of hay and straw were tangled up in it; sticking out in all different directions. He couldn't help but laugh lightly as he picked some of the straw out of her hair, flicking it to the ground.

"And just _what_ are you laughing at?" she demanded.

He smirked innocently as he offered her a hand to help her out of the cart. "Oh, nothing," he replied.

She looked at him doubtfully, and then her gaze drifted to his proffered hand. Turning her head, she ignored it as she proceeded to stand up. Then, brushing off the remaining hay, she stepped purposefully onto the side of the cart, and flipping in mid-air, landed lightly on the ground beside him. He smiled appreciatively as he withdrew his hand.

So… she knew martial arts too, did she? Interesting…

"Thanks for your help," she said sincerely, showing her appreciation with a small bow. Straightening, she smiled at him. "And I'm sorry about before," she explained, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to be so rude. But as you can see," she continued, motioning in the direction the men on horseback had rode off in, "I've had a very bad day."

The boy waved a hand in dismissal. "Ah, don't mention it," he said, grinning. "'Sides, they weren't even looking for you."

The girl's forehead crinkled in confusion, and she cocked her head to the side. "I'm sorry?" she asked dumbly. She had heard Toshi's voice just as clearly as he had—and there was no way she could've mistaken it for anyone else's. "What do you mean?"

He crossed his arms against his chest as he leaned against the sides of his cart. "Well," he said slowly, "that guy was lookin' for some 'raven-haired beauty,' right?" He quickly gave her the once over and smirked. "There's no _way _he coulda been talkin' about _you_."

Uh oh… he could literally _see_ the girl's aura now. Dark blue, he noticed, with traces of white, and her eyes narrowed as her hands became tight fists. Yep. She was angry, all right. Though angry didn't even _begin_ to describe it.

Darting to the side, he narrowly avoided a punch.

"Hey," he teased, still smiling. "No need to get violent."

The girl's eyes grew wide, and she seemed to get even angrier if that were possible. "I am not—" she said, launching a kick at his chest, "violent!" The boy just watched her in amusement, easily avoiding every move she threw his way, enjoying it much more than he should have. She had potential… that much was obvious. And with the right teacher—

…That was the last thing he remembered before he saw a chicken hurling towards him at an unnatural speed. Then the world went dark.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He awoke to see a familiar pair of brown eyes staring down at him, and instinctively, his hand went to his head, fighting back a sudden wave of dizziness as he tried to sit up.

"Careful," the girl said in a soft, concerned voice. "Not too fast…"

His eyes drifted around the area, taking everything in as he tried to remember what had happened… then his gaze fell on a large chicken that was lying beside him, out cold. His eyes suddenly widened as he remembered, and he turned to the girl, who laughed guiltily.

"Honestly," she said, "you did more damage to the poor chicken."

He couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all: the greatest martial artist in all four countries bested by a violent, crazy, female, chicken-thrower. "Me?" he asked, incredulously. "You're the one that threw it…"

"Yeah, well…"

The boy smirked as he climbed to his feet, and grabbing the innocent chicken, carried it back to the cart. The girl stayed sitting, though her eyes followed him. "I am sorry," she said at last. "I guess I might have gotten a _little_ carried away..." Climbing to her feet, she walked over to where he was standing. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," she said, holding out her hand. "My name's Akane Tendo."

The boy, for a moment, was taken aback by her name. "Err, Ranma," he said, trying to figure out why her name seemed so familiar. "Ranma Saotome." He reached out to take her hand… and stopped the moment their hands met. His eyes grew wide.

He had felt something… like an electric jolt the moment their palms had touched, and he stared at their interlocked hands, surprised and confused. When he glanced up at Akane, he noticed her expression mirrored his own.

"Did…did you?" her voice was filled with awe, and she seemed just as bewildered and confused as him.

Ranma nodded slowly. "Yeah…" he said, his eyes returning to their linked hands. His heart was beating furiously, and he felt for sure she could hear it…

There was something… something so _familiar_. "Have we met before?" he asked suddenly. "I mean—I know it's crazy an all, but… I just—I just got the strangest feeling…" he trailed off.

Akane removed her hand from his, staring at it in something close to wonder. For a moment, he thought he saw confusion in her eyes, and disappointment at the loss of contact… but maybe it was just him.

"Err, sorry," she said, blushing furiously as she chanced a quick glance in his direction. "I mean… I… I felt the same."

They took a few steps away from each other, suddenly uncomfortable with the wave of emotions they had suddenly been forced to face. "So," Ranma began, looking everywhere but at Akane. "How did you end up here anyway?" he asked.

"I'm running away from an unwanted marriage," she explained.

Ranma felt something in his heart pull at that—but ignored it the only way he knew how. "I'm surprised you're the one who was running away. I mean, what guy in their right mind would _wanna_ marry an uncute, violent girl like you?"

Akane frowned as she looked at the ground. "I don't really want to talk about it," she said, ignoring the jibe.

Unsure how to respond, he nodded. "Oh," he said, swallowing nervously. "Okay."

Both stood quietly; neither knowing quite what to say. Then, when they needed a distraction the most, they heard it.

A weak, strangled '_bawk_'.

They turned to the cart, surprised to see the injured chicken strutting back and forth, squawking pitifully as it slowly recovered from its injury. The other two chickens looked unsympathetic; they were running around in circles, amusing themselves.

Ranma and Akane watched all of this. Then, they burst out laughing.

"I _told_ you the chicken suffered more," Akane told him between fits of giggles. Ranma, for once was powerless; he couldn't stop laughing.

The sky had begun to darken, and Ranma watched it warily, suddenly feeling nervous. It was getting late, he realized, and they couldn't keep standing there forever: no matter _how_ much he might want to. Again, he was forced to remember he was on a tight schedule.

"It looks like rain, doesn't it," Akane said, following his gaze. She was leaning next to him, right against the cart; her face slightly elevated, turned towards the sky. Ranma turned to watch her, finding _that_ view much more enjoyable. Even wearing a dirty kimono—even with specs of dirt on her face, and hay in her hair—he'd never seen another girl more beautiful.

It was frustrating in a way… not being able to take his eyes off her.

This called for drastic measures, he decided. Nervously, he moved towards the front of the cart, where the over-hanging bar was resting against the ground; he could feel Akane's eyes on him all the while.

"So…" he began slowly, quietly. "Are you coming? You can't very well stay here, right?" He was trying his best not to sound _too_ nervous—to hide the fact that he was terrified she'd turn him down—that she'd have someplace else to be.

…He didn't want whatever this was—whatever he was feeling, to end…

"Coming where?" she asked. She sounded curious, not suspicious or accusing or anything. That was a good sign, right?

"To the next farm," he said, gesturing towards the cart. "I just gotta finish delivering these chickens. It should only take another couple hours or so—the farm's not too far away." He didn't bother to explain _why_ he was delivering the cart, or the fact that he was making up for the thieving practices of his father.

Akane looked thoughtful for a moment, then, smiling, she nodded. "Well, it _would_ be much easier than traveling by myself. Just don't try anything perverted," she warned him. "I'd hate to have to hurt you again."

Ranma laughed derisively. "Ha! Like I'd _wanna_ try anything with an uncute chick like you!" He was going to add how she couldn't hurt him even if she tried—that he was the **_best_**—but that _probably_ wouldn't be the best way to convince her he was harmless.

"Good," she replied happily, as if she'd been expecting such a reaction. Even though they had only just met, she found it very easy to trust him. "If you feel that way, I won't have to worry then."

Ranma picked up the front of the cart. "Anyway, we better get moving," he told her, re-shouldering the weight. His eyes, unconsciously, drifted back to the sky—to the sky which was steadily darkening with rain clouds. He swallowed nervously, unsure how to approach this particular subject. "Something else," he said, speaking slowly as he chose his words with care. "Jusenkyou. Have you heard of it?"

Akane shook her head in apology. "No, sorry," she answered. "Why? What is it?" It was obvious from Ranma's expression that whatever this Jusenkyou-thing was, was important to him. His whole body had tensed up just saying its name.

Ranma looked up at the sky again, and frowned. Explaining his curse was never easy—and for some reason, having to explain it to her, made him even more nervous than usual. She'd find out eventually—better to let her find out the old fashioned way, he decided. "Never mind," he said at last, waving his hand in dismissal. "I'll tell you later."

"Oh," Akane replied, watching him closely, "okay." She couldn't deny feeling a little disappointed at his reluctance to talk to her about it—but who was she to complain? Hadn't she been the exact same way?

She wasn't a coward. She could open up too—even if it was only a little. "Hey, Ranma," she began hesitantly.

The sound of her voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Yeah?" he asked, turning to look at her.

She was staring at the ground, in deep thought, her steps slow and measured. "There's something that's been bothering me—something that's been in the back of my mind since we—well, our hands—" she allowed her words to trail off. Both of them knew what she was referring to.

"Yesterday I turned 18," she said softly, looking up at him. "I don't know—I just—for some reason, I thought you should know that." She grew silent again, mentally hitting herself for blurting out something so strange—something so random. "Sorry," she laughed, feeling ridiculous. "You must think I'm—"

"—No," Ranma interrupted, cutting her off. He had felt it too, hadn't he? A strange, underlying fear he couldn't quite explain. Why then, when she had said that, did he finally feel like a huge burden had been lifted? Even the cart suddenly felt lighter. "I'm glad. Really. It may be a little late but… happy birthday."

Akane smiled brilliantly at him, and he could feel his heart beating uncontrollably in his chest. It was the same feeling he'd gotten when their hands had briefly touched…

"Thank you, Ranma," she told him sincerely. "That really means a lot."

Blushing, he turned away from her, his eyes focused on the road.

And above them, the rain clouds opened.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
THE END!  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Notes 

((Again, thanks so much to my friend Anna Novastar, for going over this and editing it for me!))

There you have it. I really hope you liked it! I've always been fascinated by the whole 'past lives' thing, and I've wanted to write a story about it **forever**. I think the concept's just so romantic… so here's my humble attempt. ;)

The world that they're reunited in is much darker than a lot of their past lives—-think of it as a world slowly recovering from an apocalyptic event or something. I tried to get this across using the setting—kind of barren, empty, inhospitable. If this were ever to become a full-fledged story, it would become more apparent, but since this was just a short epilogue... elaborating was too hard and only served in distracting from the main story.

If you're curious, in my mind I was thinking of the land in Basara—one of my favorite mangas. Although here, it's not so much desert lands… but open fields, with hills, and lots of dead grass. Abandoned, almost. So the world's kind of un-progressed, hence the handcart; the presence of royalty, etc.

Also, Toshi, the man riding the horse, who sounds a lot like Kuno. Since I couldn't come right out and say it--that IS Kuno. I didn't want him to have the same name, because I only wanted Ranma and Akane to truly regain a sense of their former selves (from that particular past life at least). Mainly, I was thinking of Akane's line: "I want you in this life—Ranma, my perverted fiancée who turns into a girl"—or however it went.

Sorry if that was a little confusing. Hopefully, this answered any of the questions about the epilogue you may have had.

I'm very sorry if parts of it came off _really_ cliché—I'm sure I probably heard/saw some of this stuff in other things and it influenced this. But, oh well. I thought it was cute, and that's the important thing. I'm sure in a few years I'll back at it and groan, but for now, I'm pretty satisfied.

And don't worry… I'll have new chapters of THE FORGOTTEN GAME and THE PROTECTOR next. Thanks for being so patient and allowing me to get this out of my head. I had a lot of fun writing it!

—Angela Jewell


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